Tortured Dreams
by suspensegirl
Summary: JP - their love predicted pain for a tragedy, should her parents find out, but...maybe there was a chance for death not to encircle them all. What if Julian and Penelope had made it to Paris after all?
1. Prologue

A/N: Okay, so I'm switching over to an actual couple. XD Oh my goodness, you would die if you heard the actual back-story of Julian & Penelope. *sighs* (since I'm guessing most of you haven't read the book and are just blessing me with your presence via review xD) They're more traumatic than Romeo & Juliet, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. Anyhow, the point of this story is to give them a happy ending, even if it won't leave as big an impact as the tragic one did. I swear, their story is still looming over me, and now that I've found a soundtrack for the book that the author specifically assigned to it, and listened to the song dedicated to Julian and Penelope, it just…*sighs* it blows my mind. Please read and review. This is only the prologue, so it won't be quite as long as the chapters will be.

*(If you have indeed read the book,) this fic starts right after Penelope has made Julian leave since her mother walked in on them.

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**Prologue – **

_The two breathed in sync with each other, their bodies twisting against each other in the throes of a passion that though was only meant to hold them over for the rest of the week, had been waiting for them their entire lives. Julian pounded into her core, pleasuring in how she held her head in the grasp of her delicate fingers. Their sweat mixed together through the rubbing and desperate scratching that kept the speed in a wild progression until their energy was spent. He would have scratches on his back from her for days, and he hoped for the rest of his life._

_"Penelope," he whispered breathlessly, leaning down to capture his lips. She moaned into him and he decorated her face and neck with small peppered kisses just after taking in the depth of her passionate green eyes._

_She moaned again, tightening her legs' grip around his torso. Her hands moved freely throughout his sandy blonde hair and softly landed at the base of his neck and soon after the curve of his shoulders._

_"How shall I bear the next six days without you?" she asked breathily. He stilled for a moment before kissing just above the tops of her breasts and pulled his face up to look into her crestfallen eyes. He leaned his forehead against hers and murmured sweet nothings into her troubled soul._

_"It's only six days," he said, yet his breath caught in his throat. He didn't want to think about another moment without her, let alone longer than a full day's worth. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. Seeming to sense his sadness, Penelope turned his face towards her from where he had looked into the distance._

_"Only six days," she repeated. He nodded softly, looking helpless. Then, he kissed her on her perfect, pretty, pink lips. "I love you, Julian," she breathed. His head fell into the crevice of her neck._

_"I will never stop loving you," he responded. _

Penelope lowered his eyes to the ground as she walked the tremulous path from Jacinta's room to her own. The distance seemed to take forever and she didn't think she'd ever get there. She still felt Julian's warm arms encasing her and his lips traveling down the length of her body. But now she was chilled to the bone. Her mother walking in on them only moments after they had begun to rise from their lying position had startled her and scared both of them to death.

_"Where's Jacinta?" the older woman asked after a beat, looking to have erased the scene before her. Her eyes pinned on her daughter's, dismissing the fact of her blatant nakedness beneath her neckline covered in auburn curls._

_Julian gulped, afraid to say anything. Penelope burst out with an idea as to where her governess might be and her mother departed. The door wavered in its place as the older woman left the premises without saying another word and moved to the lower levels of the mansion. Penelope turned to Julian and found him staring intently at her, still scared._

_"Go now, Julian. Go before my father comes," she whispered, hardly on a breath of air. His eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly. He reached his hand out and cupped her face. She leaned into it for a moment, suddenly shivering and on the brink of breaking out in tears._

_"But..."_

_"Go." she said, her eyes flashing open. She broke away from his embrace and stood to her feet, grabbing a near robe and tying it around herself. She picked up his clothes and threw them at him. He looked mournful but her eyes were full of unshed tears she would not let fall, and he put his clothes on in haste to sooth her. _

_"Whatever happens, I'll wait for you on Sunday on that train," he stated, praying to God that he was right. He would not leave her before making sure everything would still happen as they prayed it would. She managed a faint smile._

_"I'll be there," she insisted, under heated breaths. "Now, go. Please..."_

_Within moments he was gone, and she sunk to the floor, muffling her cries in the cloth of Jacinta's robe._

His final gaze at her had warmed her spirits, but the feeling was gone as soon as she heard his quiet steps descending the staircase. She didn't even turn to look out the window and see his form retreating down the street. She worried for what her mother would do, or if she would react at all. If her father didn't find out, then all might not be lost. For all her vain and indifferent appearances however, Penelope guessed her mother probably would not keep the secret forever.

Penelope's eyes collided with her brother's when she was inches from her room. She stopped walking and he paused in his ascent up the stairs. It seemed all she could see was his golden brown eyes. Everything else faded away, and she thought he knew – that he _had_ known for awhile, even if it had only occurred now.

Her lips parted, and his eyes looked away. He began to walk again after that, gently pushing past her on the way towards his own room. He murmured a _goodnight, Penelope_ when he was near the end of the hall, but all she could do was close her eyes in silence. Her hands found the knob of the door leading to her room and she stepped inside, locking the door behind her.

* * *

It was the coldest, longest walk of his life. In Penelope's embrace he had made a home, and now he felt as though he were a walking ghost.

It should never have happened. Had they been smarter, been thinking more clearly, they would have seen the dangers of acting in the throes of passion where, while unlikely, it was possible that someone other than Penelope's governess, Jacinta, would walk in on them. Six days seemed unthinkable though. Every day, every moment would be worth it once they got to Paris, but six days was an eternity until then. Every moment apart was an eternity, and he felt blind without her.

All possible hopes he'd imagined and almost strived for growing up evaporated into the one hope of being with Penelope. She was all he wanted, all he would ever want. There was nothing else, _nobody_ else, and he couldn't help but think they had sabotaged everything that night. He was fully willing to take the blame if it put everything behind them.

_Would Mr. Aldaya find out?_

Julian squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine what might happen if somebody knew, someone inside Penelope's household. Everything that he was in that house was a lie, except with Penelope. Without her he couldn't breathe. From the moment he'd seen her four years earlier, he'd known she was all he'd ever want. And the more he was around her, he discovered she was what he _needed_ – if nothing else, it was her. It was always her. In her blue dress and an almost dolled up Jacinta she'd traveled up the stairs away from him that first time he saw her. She was thirteen.

His steps were slow and lazy. He teetered to the side more than once in hopes that once his balance was regained he would be dreaming about Penelope, and when he woke everything would be fine, and in six days they'd be together forever. _Whatever life had he imagined before her?_ With a helpless mother and a constant abusive father who wasn't even his own, Julian had thrived on nothing more than his stories.

Penelope shared in his stories. She read books as he did. She gloried in the stories he told, found the tenderhearted, sweet, precious theme in the morbidity with which he spoke. She saw the lost boy seeking a home. She saw everything, and never had a second thought of what they were. They were _Penelope and Julian_, destined.

Loud noises were heard loudly in the background. Julian heard his father shouting, throwing things, cursing obscenities at his mother, and his eyes closed in anguish. Nobody was perfect, he knew, but his life was a mess, a disaster, a place only demons and devils sought out for comfort. Penelope was the shining light in the darkness – his perfect match and his savior.

_I should have stayed_…he repeated to himself over and over from the moment he left the Aldaya mansion, even more so once he was within range of his own home. Not only was it safer to be by Penelope's side than in his own home, but if he was terrified, he could only imagine the chilled fear running through her.

He wondered what horrible sin he had committed that would grant such possibilities of tragic endings that his love for Penelope could possibly induce. But who else would she be if not the angel of his life, the purpose in which he lived? He could find no answer. A million times he told himself he would go back to her, would pull her out of the house and run away in the night. He would force Miquel to somehow change the dates and times on the train tickets and get them away while nobody was watching.

But he had no courage, and forced himself to listen to reason. He had many professors over the years, all speaking of wisdom and logic and the need to not react on one's emotions. So, Julian stilled himself and found himself squeezing in through the back way of his family's cluttered, pain-filled apartment. The light in his room was off and he willed himself to sleep in order to block out his mother's screams. He could not sleep. But neither did his mother's horrid screams, only ending in the darkness of the later night, keep his mind from slipping into subconscious form. She was not the cause. This time it was not her heated, frantic breaths that drove him mad with insomnia.

_Penelope. Penelope. Penelope._

Shining auburn hair, glistening green eyes, perfect soft skin, and beating heart for only him – for always only him. She had expressed it many times, and he had done the same. They were light together, untouchable light. And his last image of her stained his blurry vision. Her teary green spheres prodding him to leave from whatever danger might lie in that house. He could think of nothing else. _There was nothing else_, he reasoned. There was only her, only _Penelope_. And for the sharp pain of it being all over, he could not sleep. He could not even dream.

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A/N: Hope it's hauntingly intense enough for you to keep reading. ;p Please review! =D


	2. Keep it Secret

A/N: So, finally I have gotten around to updating this fic and getting you all - *cough* Brittany *cough* - the first official chapter. ;p I just had to catch up on my GG fics, so people didn't get bored, lol, not that I'm getting review there either…*clears throat* Please review! ;)

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**Ch.1—Keep it Secret**

The next morning too early to tell, Miquel met up with Jorge Aldaya in the dank, dark alleyways of west Barcelona. There was a mist that sat heavy amongst the buildings, and Miquel could barely make out Jorge in the shadows of an abandoned building at the end of a dirty block.

"Why here?" he whispered, looking around him cautiously should anything jump out at them when they were unaware.

"Because no one would expect it," Jorge responded, his voice equally quiet. He straightened himself and pushed the creaky door beside him open. With a gesture of his head, he motioned for Miquel to follow him into the deserted home. Miquel analyzed the house from top to bottom and tried to ignore the eerie feeling he felt as he followed his friend inside.

"I don't like this," he said, walking as close to Jorge as personal space would allow. His comrade had shut the door behind them and it was pure darkness on the inside. It occurred to Miquel right then that Jorge must have been there before. He grabbed a candle sitting on a dusty ledge along the wall and lit it with a few matches he had brought along in his pocket. Miquel didn't ask questions, though he was blown away by what his friend clearly had hidden from them all, Julian included.

Jorge didn't answer him, only stopped half-way down the second hallway and turned to the right into a room with another creaky door. He looked around the room as if searching for something. Miquel followed his unsteady gaze, jumping when the door suddenly closed behind them. His eyes widened in fear, but Jorge found his gaze – still as a ghost.

"Wind," he said, gesturing once again with his head, this time towards the open windows which fluttered the curtains hanging over them on the far side of the room. Miquel nodded, somewhat relieved. He looked back towards the direction at which Jorge found himself searching and moved across the room to gather the dusty chairs with cracked leather on their seat. Jorge quickly snapped to attention and helped carry the chairs to the middle of the room. Once they were seated, he rose again once spotting a desolate fireplace. There was a pile of logs in a gray worn bag to the left of the fireplace, and he stuffed a few of them into what would become a fiery blaze. Luckily, the few matches left in his pocket brought it to life and satisfied, he walked back to his seat across from Miquel, who sat mesmerized gazing at the orange and yellow flames.

"Miquel," he said, drawing his friend back to attention. The boy flinched at the sound of his name and eased as he turned towards his friend who now sported a smile at how enraptured Miquel had been with his handy work.

"What is this all about?" Miquel asked, still confused at the sudden meaning. "You said it had something to do with your sister and Julian. So, what else is new?" he smirked, leaning back in his chair, grateful that it did not break on instant. Jorge was silent for awhile and it worried Miquel. Finally his lips parted and his eyes flashed to his friend's.

"I think something happened last night."

Miquel raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure exactly."

Miquel blinked. "You brought me here to discuss something…you're not sure of?" His confusion revived itself – not that it had really been discarded before – and he was on the point of being angry. His father may have been unaware of him slipping out at five in the morning, but he could have spotted him, and it would have been hard to come up with an excuse. Miquel was _horrible_ at coming up with excuses.

Jorge leaned forward on his elbows resting on the arms of his chair. The wood creaked a little, but he took no notice of it. "Listen, what I tell you here, I need you to not tell anybody."

Miquel nodded slowly, unsure, though willing to go along with the request.

"Not even Julian."

His lips parted. _He was his best friend._

"Miquel—"

"I think my sister might be in trouble."

He swallowed hard. He had never thought much of Jorge's sister, Penelope, but he knew Julian had. If anything, she was what Julian thought of the most. It was no secret among the four of them who he spent the most time with.

"What do you mean?" he asked, uncertain of what this had to do with _him_.

"She spent all night crying," he shivered as he said it. Miquel swallowed hard. "She wouldn't even let Jacinta into her room." He couldn't lift his gaze from the floor, and only with very forced strength could he bring his eyes to set themselves on his fidgeting fingers. Miquel couldn't bring himself to speak, but somehow he predicted the next words that slipped out between his friend's lips.

"I think Julian had something to do with it," his eyes raised to Miquel's finally, whose eyebrows had narrowed.

"Jorge, I don't know what you think, but Julian wouldn't hurt a fly – he even brought that creep, Fumero, into our little group!" Jorge nodded silently, annoyed at Miquel's defense, even if it was brought upon from only half of what he had planned on telling him. "And certainly not Penelope," he finished. Jorge looked back at him, having turned away in the midst of Miquel's rant. "You know he loves her."

Jorge nodded. "I do."

Miquel looked at him, scrutinizing every move on his friend's mysterious face. Exhaustion from the effort suddenly over took him and he sighed, leaning back in his chair again and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, his fingers closing lazily across his mouth. "Then what?" he asked, his eyes back to scanning the room.

"You know something."

Miquel's eyes flashed to his. "What?"

"You know something I don't know."

His eyes narrowed.

"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" he scoffed.

Miquel took a deep breath, deciding not to take the road of treacherous betrayal. They were good friends after all. "It's for your own good."

Jorge leaned forward in his chair and looked him dead in the eye, making Miquel uneasy with the intensity of how deeply he looked at him. "You _need_ to tell me, Miquel," he swallowed hard. "Something happened last night," his breath caught in his throat. "And if—"

Miquel held a hand up for him to stop, and he rose to his feet, the chair making a squeaking noise as it slid backwards. "I swore to secrecy. I made him swear to it as well. It'll do no good to spread it around."

His eyebrows narrowed. "We're all friends, Miquel."

He shook his head, almost laughing. "You don't get it. Our little group of friends can't…" he sighed, "can't know." Jorge's lips pursed, and he stood to his feet.

"If something happened to my sister…and you know what it is…"

Miquel moved past him towards the door, ignoring his plea.

"Miquel!" Jorge called after him, grabbing hold of his arm before he reached the door, his hand just having grasped hold of the tarnished gold doorknob. "It's not just for my sister that I worry, but for my whole family. This could ruin us. My father is one of the richest—"

Miquel turned around, snapping his arm away. "—businessmen in Barcelona," he spat. "Yes, I know, and I'm sorry," his eyes softened as he looked at Miquel's frightened, desperate face. "But this, I can't tell even you."

His fears of the house vanished as he made it back down the dark hallways and breathed a sigh of relief on exiting the deteriorating building. He heard Jorge call after him one more time but he made no effort to go back inside or to acknowledge the approaching figure. The fog was still thick and it would be hard to find his way, but soon enough the main street lie before his feet and he hailed a cab to go back home.

* * *

Miquel breathed in the cold, damp air as he walked out of the school building, relieved to have finished his final class of the day. He was still weary from the bizarre experience he had with Jorge earlier that morning, and when he spotted Julian across the courtyard a mix of lightness and fear weighed down on him. The boy's sandy blonde hair fell almost across his eyes, and his head was downcast. He smiled a little when he saw him, walking over just a little quicker than usual as the stone ground grew to a close.

"Miquel," he said softly, still supported that sad tiny smile.

"You look pale," he said, analyzing his features. _Something had happened_. Julian shrugged it off.

"It's nothing," he said. Miquel nodded, but then gulped in his inability to hold back the secrets he'd bottled up all day.

"Something with you last night? With Penelope?"

Julian's fiery golden brown eyes hit his instantly. "Who told you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing but only in confusion. Miquel shook his head.

"Jorge."

Julian sighed in relief, and Miquel's gaze shot back to him. "Better than her father, huh?" Julian nodded, almost laughing.

"Definitely."

Miquel stopped, pursing his lips. It took a moment for Julian to realize, but soon enough he returned to his friend's side. "Jorge knows something happened. I've still got the tickets, and everything is ready to go for Friday. All your dreams…"

Julian smiled softly at the thought of being with Penelope forever. Miquel shook his head and cleared his throat.

"If something happened, Julian," he placed his hand on his shoulder, "You have to tell me. You know I won't tell a soul. I didn't even tell Jorge about Paris this morning when he begged me to in this creepy old building," he shuddered, trying to laugh it all. Julian smirked a little, but it did not reach his eyes. "Julian…" he pleaded.

His gaze fell to the ground, his sandy blonde clocks floating in the expanded air between his forehead. He fidgeted with his hands and eventually stuffed them into his pockets. Everything was happening so fast, and it seemed the whole world was threatening the carefully planned out escape with his beloved.

Their eyes met again.

"Mrs. Aldaya walked in on us last night."

Miquel's piercing gaze stayed glued to his friend's. He tried to imagine all the scenarios the vain, older woman could have stumbled into. Kissing came to mind. It was the lesser version of what he feared. Any less activity would not prove threatening in the least. "Julian," he said, his mind going blank after the name slipped off his tongue.

"We weren't going to see each other six, now five, days, Miquel…"

His eyes closed in sadness. It was the greatest offense. Premarital sex was hardly heard of, and when it was, it was the greatest scandal. Maybe Julian and Penelope would marry and it could be forgotten. Mr. Aldaya had loved him like his own son from the moment he met him in the Hatter's shop. But Julian had changed. He had shifted to the personality and character Mr. Aldaya wanted. It was not hard to pick up on his excitement for accounting, for the qualities of a true businessman. Julian befriended his son, Jorge, as well. He was charming and polite, and very entertaining with his morbid stories that he drew the intensity out of in the presence of Mrs. Aldaya. Though the woman hardly cared what the boy said, or what he did, but she was vain. She knew a scandal approaching when she saw one. Her husband was one of the richest businessmen in Barcelona, and something like this…

…it might just destroy them.

So, when Julian told him _Mrs. Aldaya walked in on us last night_, Miquel knew nothing good could come out of it. His mouth went dry, and to prevent from sobbing at the tragedy that he knew was steadily approaching, he grew angry. With fiery eyes he rested his gaze on Julian's features.

"I told you to _stay away_ from there," he shook his head. "I said," he ground out, "that it would cause suspicion."

Julian sighed, ignorant of his best friend's anger. He turned and started to walk again, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. Without thinking, Miquel followed. "Six days, Miquel?" he turned to him, and his friend's anger dissolved immediately when he saw the tears threatening to fall. He could not understand the intensity with which Julian loved Penelope, but he saw the effects of it. It was breathtaking and seemed unreachable with anyone else. _They're too young, _anyone would say_. Nineteen and seventeen? Impossible._ But Miquel didn't even think twice when hints of eloping slipped into their conversation over the past few months.

"I've hardly been away from her a single day since the moment we met. I know that it is less than a week, and that then we'd be together forever, but…"

Miquel nodded, still in mourning, but starting to understand. _Penelope was Julian's breath of fresh air_. She was his all…his reason for everything he did, even his stories.

"I'll find a way, Julian," he sighed. Immediately his friend perked up and a smile finally reached his eyes. It would be a long, treacherous and complicated road, but he never doubted Miquel for a second. "I don't know how," Miquel chuckled, shaking his head. "But there has got to be a way."

Julian just looked at him, in wait for anything that could be done on his end.

"Don't tell _anyone_," he said, very seriously. "This information doesn't go anywhere but where it is right now, between us, _exactly_ where it came from."

Julian nodded rapidly, immediately confirming the demand as second nature and an instinct from that moment on. It made Miquel smile and he shook his head again.

"And for God's sake, man, _don't_ go back to her house!" he chuckled. Julian smirked, though inside he was dying just a little bit more. _Six days? _He said nothing to that request, just laughed it off to his friend. But that didn't mean he was blind. A part of him knew very well it would be suicide going back into that house, especially now that Jorge was skeptical. Besides that, Julian was well aware, just as Miquel was, that Mrs. Aldaya couldn't keep a secret like the one she had walked in on secret for long.

* * *

The view from the window showed no sign of Julian, and she knew it was only for their best interest that they remain parted until the coming Sunday. Still, she missed him, and as the day grew darker so much further did her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. She could not help the shudders that ran through her when she heard the light tapping of her father's knuckles on the door paneling going into her room.

"Father," she greeted, covering up any anxiety she might have felt in the last few moments. As far as she could tell, her father was unaware of what had happened the night before. She didn't know how long this would last – her mother was a both a mystery and the most easily read puzzle to predict.

"My beloved Penelope," he smiled, enveloping her in his arms. She ducked her head into the folds of his shirt. She wondered if this would be one of the few times he would hold her like this, with warmth and not vengeance. It occurred to her that she could be overdramatizing things in her head and she could even wed Julian in Barcelona if she wished, but when she backed away from his father and saw his adoring gaze on her pristine facial features, she knew that was not the case.

"You didn't come out much today," he said concerned, his eyebrows furrowing. Her lips parted, aching to confide in him. She so desired that he be an understanding father, regardless of his business and his attachment to a Julian he never really knew. She smiled weakly.

"I was tired," she said.

"Reading books?" he quirked an eyebrow. She nodded, honestly not knowing what else she could do. She hadn't read a single book all day, which would be strange coming from her. She lived to read, but not this day. Wherever her thoughts were would not stay focused for less than a minute before retreating back to Julian.

"You usually read in the library, dear," he said, trying to decipher her thoughts without asking them of her. He wasn't usually one to pry, and as far as he was concerned, life was at its highest. He needn't interfere with anything that didn't affect him directly.

"It's been so long since I've read in my room, father."

"Ah yes, of course," he murmured, seeming to accept the fabricated fact. He nodded briefly at her once he had come out from amidst his ponderings and willed him back into real life. "Goodnight, Penelope," he said smiling at her, closing the door just a little on his way out.

"Goodnight, father," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Less than five minutes later, she felt a presence slip into her room and close the door behind him. For a moment she prayed her hopes were true and that it was Julian who had suddenly made it into the house. When she turned around she spotted her brother standing awkwardly about two feet into the room.

"Jorge," she said, confusedly. "What is it?" she asked, blinking. He said nothing at first and just walked towards her.

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Her eyes narrowed in on him, offended. As far as she was concerned, he knew nothing of her activities with Julian the night before. He was quite aware of the state of relationship she shared with him, but he never spoke of anything openly when their parents or others who might be in business with them would be around. Some sort of sibling bond, she guessed. She was grateful for it. _Still, she wondered how he'd known…or what he even knew to begin with._

"What do you want to know?" she asked calmly, crossing the room to sit down on her bed and flatten her skirt.

"You know what I want to know," he said, determined. He never was one to beat around the bush. Sometimes she hated that about him.

"Do I?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He sighed testily, pressing his hand to his forehead where it was starting to ache. He knew his sister well enough that she wouldn't tell him straight out what had happened, especially if it had some degree of intimacy involved along with it, and that could only mean it involved Julian.

"Julian was here last night," he said. She blinked. He moved towards the bed and sat beside her on it. "Look, I know we're not the closest two people in the world, but I've kept your secret, and if something happened that might…" he paused, fishing through his head to find the appropriate words, "well, I think you should tell me."

"Why does it matter to you?" she asked, turning to him aghast. Her thoughts had spilled over inside of her and it was as if right then she realized what scandal the slipping out of her little secret would cause. "I was just tired last night. Nothing happened."

He watched her, analyzing every movement – every twitch on her face. There was still something she wasn't telling him. He breathed in deep and clenched her covers in his hands. "If you don't tell me what happened, I'm going to find out somewhere else." He stood to his feet, looking away towards the door. Her eyes widened, and she reached for his arm, cursing her actions for how they made her unravel. His eyes darted back to hers.

"Mother walked in on us last night."

He swallowed hard, knowing exactly what she was implying. She released his arm and brought her hand to her face, allowing it to soak in the tears that were slowly spilling out. He sat back on her bed and held her close to him. He should have been furious – at her, at Julian, at Miquel who probably knew about it early that morning when he'd approached him first. But his sister's tears got him all choked up, and he knew a worse fate would drown her should his father believe the words their mother would no doubt share with him, for her sake if not for the entire family.

"_What were you thinking, Penny?_" he whispered, reverting back to his childhood nickname for her. His breaths swallowed up the fear that erupted in him. He knew now why such things should not be shared, even among brothers – not until those in question were safe from society's deadly grasp. She shuddered in his embrace and that only made him hold her closer, rocking her with soothing words as if she was a small child in his care.

Hours later he woke up curled against his sister at the edge of her bed. The experience had exhausted him, but there was no doubt in his mind on what he had to do next. He rose from the bed and gently moved her higher up the bed, tucking the blankets over her from the outside in. He swept the auburn strands softly to the side of her face so it would not prove an irritation to her, even as she slept. Then he moved across the room and out the door, flying down the steps to reach the phone attached in almost complete darkness to the wall in the foyer. He completely missed the quiet presence of Penelope's governess, Jacinta, standing in the shadows beside his sister's room.

"Mrs. Carax?" Jacinta heard him ask into the telephone. "Is Julian there?"

The governess closed her eyes in sadness and then moved from her spot to peer into Penelope's room. She lay soundly asleep in the middle of her bed, her precious angel. For all the horror that her life was, Jacinta had been given Penelope, the very light of her life and what she believed was her reason for living, her reward for not perishing through such horrific experiences.

"Could you tell him to call me as soon as he gets home? _Please?_"

He sounded desperate, and he shouldn't have, but from the muffled sounds Jacinta had heard from Penelope's room hours earlier, he very well had the right to be.

* * *

A/N: Hmm, well, I'm feeling uneasy about my ending there, but hopefully it wasn't too awful. XD Let me know! Please review! ;p (Oh, and this story takes place in Barcelona, Italy 1919, if that clears up anything you might find peculiar that is certainly not the case in today's day and age. ;D)


	3. Unwarranted by Blood

A/N: Next chapter. Please review.

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**Ch.2—Unwarranted by Blood**

"_The blood spewed forth across his body, making patterns of the most fluid morbidity sink into his skin and splatter onto the ground. The victor's knife lay abandoned beside the body, and as if suddenly aware of what he had done, the criminal jumped to his feet and ran in the opposite direction, losing himself in the darkness of the night_…"

Penetrating eyes took in his every word. The boys of that school always found Julian's detailed stories of gore and bloodshed so very entertaining and thrilling. Julian took a treasure in it as well. He didn't have to hold back like he did around the girls, who found almost every word he spoke from his creative works detestable. They would banish him if they had the right, he imagined, and it was probably true. All but his precious Penelope. She was as enraptured by the tales as the boys were, if not more. She loved to read and she always found the hidden sentimental meaning behind the violence in which he had created by word of mouth. No one else found that mystery. Sometimes even he himself could not find what she seemed to have dug up out of this air. But he didn't doubt her for a second.

He hadn't seen her for two days, and it felt like torture. It seemed he had never known such pain as this. He never stopped thinking about her, and even though he was particularly good at covering it up, his troubled thoughts were starting to take a toll on his senses and behavior.

"What happened next, Julian?"

He looked up, spotting the sullen, yet curious face of Fumero rise from its sunken place in the crevice of his neck. Miquel, Fernando, Jorge…they were always so suspicious and untrusting to the deprived little boy. He wasn't little in a certain sense, but he was definitely an outsider, and only by Julian's own graces had he managed to wiggle his way into the small group of friends. Julian ignored his friends' pleas to drop the boy's presence from anywhere near them, but he refused. He saw good in him it seemed. He prayed someday they would see it too.

Julian cleared his throat, his gaze darting amongst the rest of the boys and then his heart leapt as he saw Miquel leave the school building.

"More tomorrow," he promised, scampering away as they whined like little children being deprived of a cookie before dinner. He didn't notice how Fumero glowered after him and his beady little eyes followed Julian's form across the courtyard to meet up with Miquel. The two embraced and after an intent study of the two of them, Fumero moved away from the crowd of other boys and steadily made his way away from the school.

"You looked distracted, Julian," Miquel commented as they began to walk together in the direction they had gone the day before, and in which they went after every school day – to the point as far as they could go until they had to part ways to each other's prospective homes.

Julian shot Miquel a knowing, almost glaring, glance, and his friend cleared his throat.

"Right," he confirmed, unable to keep the uneasy silence from swallowing them up.

"Have you heard anything?" Julian asked, his gaze plastered on the ground. He watched his feet as they moved, gathering up dirt and then kicking it to the side, almost tossing it back onto his legs in an unplanned movement.

"Not on accident," Miquel said finally, sighing. Julian looked towards him, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

Miquel felt as if he were about to explode. He knew too much. He had gotten too involved, and now it would cost him. He had asked Julian for all the information, for Jorge, in a manner of speaking, but he had kept digging after that and now the situation had gotten worse.

"Miquel," Julian stopped him with a shaky hand on his arm, his eyebrows furrowing in worry. "What—" he gulped, "what do you know?" he asked. His friend looked at him, wishing he could tell him he knew nothing. Because there was nothing he could keep from Julian. Even if he chose not to say it out loud it would be written all over his face. After much thinking through, he had convinced himself that taking his secrets down to the grave was in everyone's best interests, but the more Julian pleaded, the harder Miquel found it to keep what he knew from him.

"You need to get out of here, Julian."

He squinted a little, trying to under the meaning underlying his best friend's words. He could tell whatever he was keeping from him was clearly hard for him to say. Usually when that happened he could tell what exactly was bothering him and what was being held back. He couldn't tell this time, but any idiot in on what they knew could probably predict on what lines his worries and _unspoken knowledge_ lie.

"Is it—does it," he cleared his throat, lowering his voice, "…anything with Penelope?" he asked, eyes wide and sad. When Miquel looked at him full on again, he wanted to die. He nodded briefly.

"Everything does these days, doesn't it?"

Julian began to walk again, his eyes directed back at the ground. Suddenly, he didn't want to know what he knew. What Miquel knew was obviously dangerous, scary, worse than in his stories. And it had to do with Penelope. That sent chills up his spine.

"Bad?" he asked tentatively.

Miquel shook his head and then shrugged with a sigh. "Well…not in regards to what you might think…exactly."

Julian's eyebrows furrowed, deeply confused. "I don't…understand…"

Miquel's eyes closed in frustration and when they opened everything in front of him suddenly seemed so dark and gloomy, even though summer was soon approaching and the colors and temperature was warm and beautiful around them.

"I know," he swallowed hard, letting a pause seep in around them but not allowing Julian to attempt his own confusing thoughts to be voiced once more. Miquel knew what he would say. What he didn't know was how he would react once the knowledge was shared and he understood it to completion.

"Mr. Aldaya is furious with you, Julian."

Julian swallowed hard, trying to be as brave as he could and outlast whatever came next.

"He knows," he said, barely a whisper under his breath. Miquel nodded, trying his very best not to shake. They were a safe distance away from the school and so he stopped again, moving away from the side of the street and wordlessly calling Julian to come with him.

"Jorge tried to call you two nights ago, but you weren't home, so the next morning before school he sprung on me and told me everything he knew. Penelope's been crying, he said."

Julian's eyes closed in anguish. "Jorge tried to call me," he said, pain filling up every word.

"Yeah…" he sighed, reaching one of his hands out to squeeze Julian's arm in comfort. "Your father knows too." Julian's eyes snapped to his.

"Knows what exactly?"

"About you and Penelope. Mrs. Aldaya broke the news to her husband, and now…" he sighed, shaking his head wordlessly.

"What?" he asked, barely able to speak. "Is there some sort of conspiracy going on?" his eyes narrowed. "Against me?"

Miquel gulped. "Mr. Aldaya has made an agreement with your father. They've enlisted you in the army, and they're planning an _"accidental"_ death once you leave."

Julian was barely breathing. It was too much to take in, and he could hardly stand still without collapsing. His eyes searched the area desperately, looking everywhere but Miquel's sorrowful face. He couldn't even feel the intense grasp he had on his arm anymore. His friend was saying something to him as well, but he couldn't hear it. Perhaps it was encouragement or warning or the offer to stay with him until things improved…or to run away sooner than intended. He couldn't decipher it exactly, but his eyes landed on a spot in the distance and it scared him more than anything, revealing more than he could imagine. It was Jorge, completely aware of what conversation was taking place, and looking to be devoid of all emotion.

* * *

"You shouldn't be here," Miquel commented, coming to take a seat beside his forlorn friend sitting in front of a run-down old hat shop. He would not mention how ironic it truly was, certainly not a coincidence, though in Julian's mind it very may well have been.

"You found me," he said.

"You make it easy for me, Julian. You always end up in the same place," he grinned, nudging his friend in the side with his elbow. "It's the farthest away you can get and still see the tops of the Aldaya manshion." Julian smiled a little at the true statement and Miquel's wide grin evaporated almost immediately. He sighed.

"Julian, you have to let her go," he said, his eyes fixed straight away, knowing the look of shock and instant opposition Julian would have on his face.

"You can't be serious."

With sad eyes, Miquel turned to look at him.

"No!" he said with defiance. His friend's intense eyes remained transfixed on his. He could not shake the feeling that just as determined as he was to be with Penelope, so very suddenly was his confidant to separate them forever. "What's gotten into you?" he shook his head, turning his gaze to the fisted hands he clenched across his bent knees as the two of them sat on the ground against the building.

"You have to trust me with this, Julian. Nothing can come from you staying in Barcelona."

Julian shook his head without a word, refusing to believe it. Miquel turned away, rummaging around in his pocket for something. He held a single ticket in his hand marked for Paris that very night. Julian's own piercing eyes collided with his.

"What is this?" he choked.

"You know what it is," he paused, hoping his friend would take it. "Take it," he demanded, placing the slightly crinkled ticket into the palm of Julian's hand. Julian dropped it instantly and recoiled as if burned. He looked down at the dirtied ticket and then glared at his friend. "I'd rather die trying to be with and save Penelope than abandon her because my own life was in danger," he spat.

Miquel sighed, knowing it would be like this. The chills running through him when he spotted Jorge in the distance just after Julian had run off hours earlier told him it would be like this. He prayed to God every night since the prior Saturday when what should have been unseen was displayed to the very vain and numbed to sense Mrs. Aldaya walked in on the just finished love-making act between Julian and her Penelope.

"I'm not leaving for Paris tonight, Miquel," Julian ground out through his teeth. Miquel gathered the ticket back up in his hand and tucked it into the depths of his back pocket.

"There's more involved than you know."

Julian's eyes flashed to his.

"Fumero is dangerous."

He scoffed, looking away. "All of you keep telling me this and yet I know he wouldn't hurt a fly. He hasn't hurt any of us, least of all me, since we became friends."

Miquel shook his head, frustrated by his friend's blinded confidence. "He's just waiting…"

"For what?" he looked back at him, furious. "The moment when I'm weakest so he can attack?" he spat. Moving past the anger, Miquel just nodded, hoping his friend would see through to his very real concern and the truth in it.

"He's _obsessed_ with Penelope."

Julian rolled his eyes. "_Right_."

"I'm serious. He's jealous of…your relationship with her. He's _mad_…would do anything to have her," his eyes widened and narrowed in disgust. "And he's not afraid to dispose of you to get her."

He scoffed. "You're saying he'd _kill_ me to have Penelope? That's insane. He's harmless. And even if he _did_ supposedly commit the horrendous act, she'd never be with him. He's…"

"…a creep?" he offered.

Julian glared. "Not _right_ for her," he corrected. Miquel sighed, becoming for frustrated by the second at Julian's blindness to the whole situation. He wasn't telling him things blatantly for a reason – except for Fumero's inevitable aggression that is. Being blunt would kill him, but if Julian didn't relent soon enough, he would have no other choice. He didn't want to have to give into that option.

"You have to leave…" Miquel said in a quiet voice. Julian felt the palpable vulnerability in his best friend's voice, but his love for Penelope overpowered him and he would not give in for the sake of his own life and his friend's combined. His eyes closed at the pain of the whole argument.

"I…can't," he sighed dejectedly.

Miquel stood to his feet, looking down at his tortured friend just as he had when he'd first come. He held out his hand to him and Julian tentatively took it, finding it hard to revive the extra strength he'd let grow dormant that afternoon within him. He just stood there and looked into his friend's eyes for the longest time, wondering if there was yet another proof Miquel would use against him to get him to leave.

"It's not safe for you at home."

"I know."

"Fumero's dangerous."

"So you say…" he said precariously, his eyes now analyzing Miquel's in the most peculiar way. He was still hiding something. He still had one more bullet to shoot, and this one was the most dangerous of all. "Miquel, what are y—"

"The Hatter's not your father."

His eyes narrowed and he was made speechless. He glanced away for a moment. "We've only talked on this subject once before, and I thought then that we deci—"

"Never to talk about it again? Well, now we need to." Julian's eyes penetrated his, searching for some sort of cause in the abrupt topic change. _What did this have to do with his fleeing for France?_

"Is this your way of giving up? Have you settled on the fact that I'm not leaving?" Julian asked, a hint of humor in his words as he crossed his arms across his chest. Miquel shook his head, scoffing lightly at the guess.

"No, I wish that were true, but…it's not." He looked back at Julian, and his faded almost happiness tore him apart. "Mr. Aldaya is your father," he said quietly. Julian backed away in short jagged steps steadily, trying to take the words in, a million corruptive thoughts spinning through his mind at full speed.

"No, no, no…" he repeated over and over to himself in a still, blubbering voice. He swallowed hard, afraid to look Miquel back in the eyes, afraid of what other horror he could say.

"You can't be with Penelope," Miquel said, tears spilling over onto his face. "She's your sister," he breathed. Short breaths followed and Julian didn't move an inch. When Miquel had regained his strength he still didn't look away. Finally Julian looked up to him with angry eyes, the saddest soul he had ever seen. He took a step towards him and pulled the ticket out of his pocket.

"Leave…tonight, Julian," he whispered, holding the ticket out in front of him with shaky hands. Julian looked down at the small slip that considerably could change his life. Then he looked back up at him and shook his head.

"No," he said. He didn't move but his sad eyes made the shaking of his head all the more painful for Miquel to watch. He had delivered all the news he had, and knowing Julian was in denial hurt him all the more. He wondered for an instant if his eyes looked as sad and helpless as Julian's, if it was like looking in a mirror.

"She's not…you don't kn—" he gulped, looking away towards the ground and shaking his head, faster now. Miquel closed his eyes and reached to touch Julian's arm again, to give him comfort, but he snapped away, tears seconds from falling.

"She _is_," he said firmly. "Your mother told me."

Julian's head snapped up and he glared at the person he was not completely sure was even his best friend anymore. He stepped away more, unwilling to believe, and Miquel's arm dropped to its side. There would be no convincing him, not even if he was taken back in time to see his own mother partaking in the courtship with Mr. Aldaya – or rather the _seduction_. Ricardo Aldaya was not known for developing _romantic_ feelings. Even his own relationship with his wife had been an arranged marriage.

Julian turned and ran away for the second time that day. Miquel's lips parted and his jaw dropped wondering where his friend would go. At home he was not safe. At school he was always being watched. The Aldaya's manshion was a death sentence ever drawing him near. He had to believe in the fact that Julian would return to him, so he could hide in the wake of this nightmare, and maybe in time let Penelope go.

* * *

A/N: Freaky twist, huh? Well, believe it or not Penelope and Julian _were_ actually siblings in the book, though they never found out – _Thank God_. Heh. Review! ;p


	4. Lies That Kill

A/N: There needs to be a movie made for this book. Seriously. I was just going flipping through it today looking for when Bea tells Daniel she loves him – because I swear she does. *remembers it vividly* But I couldn't find it. I got lost in the Julian/Penelope tragedy again, and omg – how awful. I got so swept up in it that I made a fanfiction website dedicated to tSotW fanfiction! XD Haha. Can you believe it? I just…*sigh* I know none of you have read this book (supposing there are people actually reading this story) and I so desperately want to speak and fanfic with peeps that have. It's hard having to explain all these things…lol. I realized I had a few details misplaced in this fic too, that had to do with before my fic started, so I adjusted those. Oh man though…_so_ tragic. *almost can't handle it* Oh, and in the book Miquel & Julian hardly talk during the week. Miquel doesn't learn about Julian & Penelope being siblings until years later, and Jorge like…doesn't speak to them at all. I'm pretty sure he's nonexistent to his sister as well, so I've created all that, and other minor adjustments too I think. Heh. Not as tragic and more hopeful for things to work out if I put some communication in there, I figure. XD Also, I'm like 100% sure Penelope had no relationship with her father. Lol. Omg. It's all so awful. *shudders* It's one thing when they mention what happened in the book, but when they go back and have the dialogue and emotions and…*shudders* but I'm getting to caught up in it already. XD Haha! On with the story. *clears throat* I had a whole plan typed out for what I'd be writing when, but since I have one or two reviews these days (if I'm lucky), I figure I'd just write whatever. Heh. I'm more inspired for tSotW fics now anyways. XD

Please check out my website!

It's: www . theshadowofthewindfanfiction . webs . com (without the spaces, heh)

I know…so original. Lol. Please review!

* * *

**Ch.3—Lies That Kill**

The quiet creak of the door turned his mother's head towards him. He should have known the quiet, abused woman would be alerted at even the slightest sound. There she sat, rubbing her fingers lightly over the dark bruises resting on her wrists, no doubt from his father – or was he now?

"Julian," she breathed, watching as he slowly made his way into the room. She got up instantly and went to him but he led her back to where she sat on her bed. He took one of her hands and intertwined it with his own. "You're hardly home anymore, Julian," she swallowed hard, running head through the thick locks resting on the top of his head. He sighed, nodding. "You spend all your wretched time at the Aldaya's place," she chuckled lightly, cupping his face with the palm of her hand and forcing his vision to rest on hers.

"Mother…" he sighed, biting his lip and looking away. Her eyes looked on at his face, searching for the answer to his woes.

"What have you done?" she asked suddenly, and he lifted his eyes to her. There was no possible way she could have known, unless Miquel had told her. He didn't doubt now if he had. He had told her he'd gone to see his mother after all.

"I'm sorry," he hung his head in shame. Her eyes closed tight and a few tears seeped out. Julian felt guilt and hatred towards himself consume him as he heard the quiet sobs his mother released. She pulled him to her and cradled his head in the dark shadows of her neck. He could feel the speed of her heart rate go up, and the scars beneath her dress sped across his skin as she moved him to a more comfortable position against her.

"You must get away. You must leave. We _both_ must." She brought his head up to look at her again, saddened by his sorrowful eyes as he certainly must have been as well. For what felt an eternity Julian just sat and looked into his mother's desperate worried eyes.

"I will," he broke the silence, an assurance flooding his face though he wondered if his promise would convince her, because it did not convince himself. "You needn't worry about me mother," he nodded. "I'll be all right." She shook her head, seeming to not believe it.

"Your father, Jorge's father—"

"I know," he said, cutting her off. Her eyes flashed to his. A new expression shone on her face, that of surprise and fear. She had only told one other person what the two men were planning, and she had told him other things too. She wondered if her son knew. "I'll leave soon," he promised, not for a moment considering telling her about the trip to Paris. He had told Penelope to keep it to herself, to tell no one, lest they be tracked down and punished for their rash behavior. He would not be hypocrite to their secret affair.

"Julian, do you…know?" she asked, hesitantly, hoping that if he didn't know he wouldn't beg her to tell him in curiosity and possible security measures. She had kept it hidden from him for seventeen years, at least five since he had first met Penelope Aldaya.

"Tell me it's not true," he commanded, his tone soft, his acceptance only existent on the basis of her confirmation of what he feared could be true. She turned away from him and noticed how his fingers suddenly clenched tighter on the sheet of the bed.

"Julian…" she reached her hand towards him, but he backed away, slowly coming to a standing position just inches from the bed, his eyes glued to the floor. She swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn't run off, knowing _she_ would if she'd just been told the love of her life was her own flesh and blood. "We never thought you two would meet."

He sighed breathlessly, quiet sobs forming in his throat.

"I never expected to see Ricardo Aldaya again. He almost—"

Julian cleared his throat louder than she spoke, and her watery eyes collided with his as soon as he braved removing his stare from the wooden floor and back on his mother's. It felt as though he couldn't breathe, as if everything was being ripped away from him and soon he would die and it wouldn't matter. Though everything, every fact, every angered authority and even friend, threatened to tear them apart, he could not find it in himself to let her go.

"Where is—"

Sophie Carax closed her eyes in the sadness so palpable in that very room.

"He's in the hat shop," she said, her eyes flicking back to her son. She noticed as he nodded, his gaze pinned back to the floor. She wondered if he would ever move. He seemed so incredibly lost and helpless and all she wanted to do was hold him and tell him all the truths she had finally revealed were not true and just an old fable to get him to leave sooner. How badly she wanted to believe that were the case.

"I—I have to go," he said, his eyes barely raising to half-way up her neck as he backed out of the room. Fear filled her eyes, knowing he was hardly safe anywhere because of all that had happened. If he left now, she didn't know if he'd ever return. In part she would be grateful if he didn't return that night, knowing he wouldn't have to hear her screams his "father" would pull out of her in smacking her about the room, demanding food and proper fidelity in a marriage only he created problems for. She had not once in their entire marriage been unfaithful. It was just earlier in the wake of such an unsettling courtship that she was seduced by Ricardo Aldaya.

"Julian!" she called out, begging him to stay, hoping he would move past all this at least for the night as she lulled him to sleep with the songs she'd sung to him as a child. He did not stay though, and soon she wondered if she'd imagined the entire transaction. She prayed he would be safe and that somehow he would make it out alive, that her husband and her old lover would not drive Julian into darkness and death. She did not let herself dare think of the emotional trauma that might very well kill Julian and Penelope because of who they were and what they could not be. She would not wish this fate on anyone.

* * *

He didn't know how he got there. Quite honestly, it was probably the worst place he could have ended up. So much lie in danger for him here. But he could not make himself stay away. Shivering from the cold and the building heat bubbling up in his stomach, Julian Carax made it across the street and just in front of the Aldaya mansion. He knew Penelope had a window in her room, and though her room was on the third floor of the building, he still found himself analyzing the stone edges jutting out on the outer walls of the mansion, hoping one would prove safe and allow him access to her room.

It was too dangerous to attempt a walk-in straight through the front door. Mr. and Mrs. Aldaya might be sleeping, but either one or both were usually pretty light in how they slept, and with the scandal approaching the newspapers more each day, not a single maid besides the governess, Jacinta, would keep their lips sealed on his sudden and quite unexpected visit in the middle of the night. He couldn't count on her being the one to respond to his quiet, yet loud enough knock on the front door of the mansion. Despite the architecture of the building, Julian could not seem to find a way into the building. The closest balcony was at least two stories high, and he was not an athletic individual.

Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled away by the back collar of his jacket and led into the darker shadows on the far side of the building. He panicked, tears pricking at his eyes. He feared for his life, truly believing that it was Mr. Aldaya who may have been on the look-out for the boy who had taken his daughter's innocence away and who would destroy his business, and thus his entire family.

Julian's feet backed up hastily as he was pulled away, afraid he would be beaten up sore and killed on the spot if he did not keep up with the speed at which he was ripped from his wavering station just outside Penelope's window. Very abruptly he was slammed into a hidden crook of the stone wall. He waited with his eyes squeezed shut for the first blow and was surprised when it never came.

"Open your eyes, you idiot," came the sudden command. It belonged to a voice he was familiar with and Julian's eyes snapped open, widening with relief at his great fortune.

"Jorge," he choked. The boy just looked at him, analyzing every shift of degree in the motions on his face. Julian could not tell what he was feeling. Jorge was always such the quiet type, or at least more distant than the rest of them, especially recently.

"Yes, and you're lucky it's not my father," he spat. Julian closed his eyes in shame and nodded, his chin tucking into his neck for a moment. He waited a painfully long time for the lecture he was sure would come, and maybe even the painful threat. When nothing came he looked up to see Jorge still analyzing him.

"She's been locked in her room since yesterday, crying throughout the entire day, and hardly sleeping at all. Only father and mother have a key to her room." Julian's eyes widened as Jorge's hand unfolded to reveal a single golden key. He gaped.

"You—?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wish I were that brave."

Julian gulped.

"It was Jacinta."

He nodded, understanding immediately.

"She knew you would come." He sighed. "Come with me. I know another way into the servant's entrance, a way that won't cause noise and won't alert anybody in the household except for the two of us. Maybe Penelope will be aware, but that is only because she is always waiting for you…" he trailed off. Julian swallowed hard, following after the boy that had hardly been his friend and now seemed more concern with his need to see her than the safety and security of his whole family.

"Jorge," he whispered, once they were just outside Penelope's door. "Why are y—"

He stood still, not giving him an answer, maybe even wondering if there was a reason for the compassion he had come to feel for his sister and Julian over the last few days. He lifted a hand for Julian to stop. His eyes shifted back to his and his own lips parted in a wavering sigh at the confused expression on his friend's face. "You don't have much time," he gestured towards the door and held out the key to him. "I'll come back when you have to leave."

Within moments, Jorge was gone, having faded into the shadows at the end of the hall. His eyes shone a bit in the darkness, but Julian moved past the distraction and confusion he felt and placed the key into the lock of the door leading into Penelope's room. He heard a breathy sigh when the door closed behind him. He gulped, seeing her crying, shaking form on the floor in the corner, her bed deserted. It was as if she could feel his presence now in the room, for it was not fear but astonishment in her eyes when she turned to look up at who stood just inside her doorway.

"J-Julian?" she gasped, as if wondering if he were truly real or just another of her dreams she had concocted in the two days past. He took another step towards her, almost afraid of what to do should it drive her mad and leave an impression of terror on them should they never see each other again – though Julian was determined this would not be the last of their meetings.

She ran to him and his fear vanished. He had thought just now that she would be mad at him for everything, for what they had done and what it had caused. But she was not in the slightest. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him for dear life. She was breathing harshly but her body was glued to him and she could not be moved. Though neither could he. He had feared he would never see her again, that he would never breathe in her glorious natural scent or feel the silk of her hair or gentle, angelic figure of her body beneath his fingertips.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed into him, gasping desperately for air, almost hyperventilating as she pushed herself closer than there was room for and dug her nails into his scalp and the skin on the back of his neck. "I thought I'd lost you."

She pulled her face back just a little and immediately latched her lips onto his, kissing him as if this were the last time, as if they had been parted forever when in reality it had just been a few days. He kissed her back with an equal if not more powerful fervor, their lips and teeth and tongue moving in and out at an incredible speed, grasping at each other's clothing to hold onto something that didn't seem to be truly existent, hadn't been since they'd last seen each other. They hadn't been whole, had been so broken since they'd last been together, and he truly felt he was more broken than she with all the knowledge that he knew.

"Penelope," he breathed, finally breaking away and leading her towards the bed. She shook her head at the location, memories from their first time swallowing her whole.

"No, Julian, we can't," she told him, avoiding his gaze. She desperately wanted to, but fear engulfed her for what had happened the last time they had indulged in such pleasure.

"No, I know. But you've cried in a corner for too long," he turned her head to face his and looked deep into her eyes. He pressed another kiss to her lips and sighed into him as if she'd finally found her relief and this would all she'd ever need every moment for the rest of her life.

"There is something I must tell you."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she sat beside him on the bed, trying her very best not to fear the very worst. Everything was beginning to unfold itself and she had been unable to feel anything but the worst since the night he had fled from her presence and into the cold darkness of Barcelona.

"What is it?" she asked, squeezing his hand tight.

"My father…and your father," he gulped, and she released her tight grip, now only smoothing her fingers over the back of his hand in small, delicate circles. "They're planning to send me into the army…and get me killed."

Her eyes widened in terror and her lips parted as she tried to hold back her tears, her agony. "Everything is caving in around us, Penelope," he told her. "I—I don't know what to do," he confessed. She sniffled, trying to maintain her sadness and be brave for him. She fell into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. There was so much he hadn't told her, but he couldn't bring himself to. He had faced the fear of her being mad, maybe even hating him, once that night and he could not bear to do it again. He brought her closer to him and laid them both on the warm comforter of her bed. In due time she fell asleep in his arms, and it was only by the soft knock on the door an hour later that he fully convinced himself he would need to leave.

It was painful removing her arms from around him, and turning her head away from in the crook of his neck to her cold long abandoned white pillows at the head of the bed. He kissed her softly on her forehead, cheek, and lips, also drifting down to her neck and collarbone, grateful for the small smile that adorned her features as he did so in her sleep. Then he draped a light blanket he'd found across the room over her beautiful figure. Pressing a final kiss to her hand and holding it close, he forced approaching tears to subside and he turned away from her towards the door.

He spotted Jorge watching him from the doorway, looking the most forlorn and mournful he'd ever seen him. He hadn't seen many emotions grace the features of Jorge Aldaya, but there was some comfort in the understanding he saw in his face now. The boy had started to feel a little of his sister's pain when he'd tried to comfort her some days before, but now it was as if he had experienced it himself, watching as Julian slept embraced in her and kissed her sweetly as if she were a porcelain doll. His concern for his sister, and for Julian, multiplied instantly in that moment.

Julian turned back once more to look at Penelope, as he always was now, that he would never see her again and his life would drown in the doubt and pain of what could never be. Her face had fallen back towards where he had been and her long dark eyelashes lay soft against her cheeks, just brushing the ivory skin that encapsulated all of her form. With one final intake of breath and hold-back of tears, he took it upon himself to close the door behind them since Jorge now seemed to mesmerized to do so.

"We're siblings," he said suddenly and Jorge looked at him, having finally been blocked from his sister's view. He was confused and couldn't comprehend.

"What?" he asked. Julian sighed wearily, afraid to look too deeply into Jorge's sad eyes.

"You, me, Penelope," he swallowed hard, his eyes flicked back to his friend's. "We're all siblings." Jorge gaped and turned his stare turning to the floor and his eyebrows narrowing in anger. His breaths became ragged and when he finally looked back at Julian he looked a blaze of fire.

"I couldn't tell her," Julian choked, and Jorge's eyes softened, sadness overtaking him again, now for all of them. "Will you tell her?"

Jorge's eyes widened, terrified at the task. "What?" he asked again, this time out of horror and defiance instead of confusion.

"I can't do it," he choked again, finding it harder to hold back sobs, "And if I leave her for good…" a tear slipped down the side of the face, "she needs to know it is not because I don't love her. I will not have lies told to her on my account."

Jorge nodded briefly, wearily accepting the task and not even noticing as Julian blew out the candle he held in his hand and made his way down the path they had come. By the time he returned to his bedroom, he saw Julian as only a speck of shadow at the far end of the block.

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A/N: Hope you liked it! Lol. Again, you amazing peeps that are actually reading this are incredible. Thank-you, thank-you SO very much! =)


	5. Plummet to Hell

A/N: Well…my mind has drifted. In the last day or so I got caught up again in the Daniel/Clara relationship and then the Daniel/Bea one. *shakes head* I have returned though and am uber psyched to have finally found someone who has read the book and is indeed reading my fics! *beams* So, this chapter is dedicated to her – **MrsMojoRising**. Thanks for all the tips and observations in regards to the book and my story. It's truly appreciated. =)

Enjoy. Please review. I own nothing.

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**Ch.4—Plummet to Hell**

Julian's thought clouded into a hazy blur, and as the older man walked away he found himself unable to move. _Expelled? For what reason?_ He had not given any direct cause in particular, just an obvious statement that he should know. _Should he? What wrong had he done?_ Perhaps he was just not liked amongst the authority, _probably for his low class_, he thought. Though the obvious truth pounded into his mind and no other realistic conclusion could be made – Mr. Aldaya had pulled back his funding.

Overwhelmed and mortified, Julian did not even hear Miquel calling after him or feel his friend walking beside him within moments of his departure. None of any of this felt real and he was desperately trying to grab onto something he could hold onto without the fear of it breaking under his weight.

"Julian, say something," Miquel demanded, though his tone was soft. All Julian could hear was the scuffling of their feet on the ground. "Julian," he stopped him finally and turned him towards him. Slowly Julian's crestfallen face met with Miquel's searching eyes. For the longest time they just stood there like that, neither knowing what to say.

"It's over, Miquel," Julian finally said, shaking his head.

"It's not," his friend insisted, sighing somehow with determination. Julian swallowed hard.

"I talked to my mother last night. You were right," he choked. Sadly, Miquel dropped his remaining hand from Julian's shoulder and his eyes closed, trying as best as he could to think of something that would encourage hope in his young friend.

"Julian, I…"

"And about my 'fathers'," he spat, growing angry, his fists clenching at his sides. Angry tears greeted Miquel's gaze when he finally looked up again. Miquel was speechless, his lips parted in an attempt to force something out. He failed to find anything. Julian turned and walked away again. It took Miquel a moment to respond, but the moment he realized what had happened, he quickly followed after his friend.

"You shouldn't go home tonight," he said abruptly. Julian was fuming and scoffed.

"And leave my mother all alone to face that monster?"

_You don't do anything anyways_, Miquel wanted to point out, but he held his tongue. Showing Julian's lack of active participation between his parents would only stir his anger further.

"Just for tonight?" he offered, his voice hoping perhaps for more than there was to grasp at. Julian sighed and looked at him, stopping again. He nodded uneasily. "It's not safe for you anywhere else." Julian pursed his lips, hating how truthful his best friend's words were. Usually he could play around with whatever was said and even prove otherwise, but too much had happened and it all just seemed hopeless now.

"It's over, isn't it?" he asked, his voice weak. Miquel swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. He couldn't possibly tell his best friend that everything was over, especially when everything had just been ripped out from under him. He was _so_ broken.

The two heard a whizz go over their heads and both boys looked around to see where they had come from. They were nearly two blocks away from school now and neither could imagine who would've followed them or would need to see them for whatever reason. Fernando had seemed occupied throughout the day, and Jorge was absent, something they both felt was very suspicious but had learned to consider nearly everything in that light during the week. It was no supreme coincidence. Julian was convinced it had to do with what he had told him the night before, and he shuddered inside at the conversation that must have taken place between Jorge and Penelope that night or even in the morning.

"What was _that?_" Julian asked, looking around. Miquel shook his head, bewildered as well.

"I—I don't know," he scanned the area around them when suddenly a short, dark-haired individual slid out from behind some bushes along the road. Both eyes widened when they saw the smoking gun he held in his hand.

"Fumero?" Julian choked, standing there agape at the boy. He gave him a once-over, trying to contemplate the reasons his little friend would have for what appeared to be a shooting aimed right at him. The boy took another step closer and without thinking Miquel grabbed hold of the sleeve of Julian's shirt and started walking back slowly.

"You took her from me," Fumero ground out. Miquel swallowed hard, figuring an _'I told you so'_ wouldn't do at a moment like this, or any moment for that matter.

"What?" Julian asked, aghast, hardly breathing.

"You know who I'm talking about," he growled, spitting a wad of saliva on the ground across from him. The two boys kept their eyes pinned to his. Julian's face fell and nearly mourned for the mistake he'd taken in thinking this boy was his friend. Miquel's eyes drifted down to the gun every few seconds, wondering how in the world they would get Fumero to back off, or at the very least escape.

A large crash sounded in the distance and Julian made the briefest of glances in the direction had come. Fumero seized the opportunity and shot off his weapon. Miquel, not taking his eyes over the twisted boy for a second, extended his arm around Julian's waist hastily and they both went crashing to the ground. In alarm, some people stepped out of their houses at both of the loud noises, and before Miquel and Julian could make a single move or speak from their trembling lips, Fumero was gone, running as fast as lightning down the opposite street and turning at the corner.

They were both shaking as they stood to their feet. Julian's head slowly turned and looked at Miquel, his eyes offering up more of a 'thanks' than words could ever do. Miquel sighed and released his arm from around Julian who still lingered close to him.

"We should go home," Miquel said, his voice low and weak. He cleared his throat in an effort to sound more sure of himself. Julian nodded almost unnoticeably. He was in too much shock to approach the issues they had talked on briefly before, that they seemed to be discussing every second of every day they were together that week.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, practically pinned to Miquel's side half-way to his home. Miquel's breath caught in his throat, but he said nothing. He knew what the apology was for – for Fumero – but he, himself, had not gotten over the attempted assassination Fumero had taken on Julian's life. As if things weren't bad enough at least they had had some restraint. Now all the ropes appeared to be snapping all at once and Miquel, for all his loyalty, feared he would not be able to save Julian on his own.

* * *

Julian's heart beat faster as he, for the third time that week, approached the Aldaya's mansion. It was late afternoon and he knew he'd run the chance of bumping into the heads of the household but he could not bear to be apart from her a second longer, not with the request he'd been so insistent towards Jorge with the night before. He swallowed hard, approaching the front door. He knew it wasn't the wisest of decisions, but neither was him coming to begin with, neither was anything he'd done that week, and so it did not seem much harm that he continued to return to the place that threatened more than anywhere or anyone else ever could.

Miquel had left him for only twenty minutes when he'd decided he needed to go to Penelope and discuss with her what had either been said or hadn't been between her and Jorge. He knew Miquel would have prevented him somehow or ridiculously have insisted on coming along, so he waited till he was alone and all was quiet and wrote a simple short note telling him he'd return later. His friend would probably be sick with worry and grief and Julian felt guilt consume him for that very fact, but his need to be with Penelope and fix, however he could, the situation at hand – the fact of how mad she might be at the revelation of their biological bond, was too great to overlook with Miquel's possible panic. So much was at risk, but for all the logic that Julian forced himself to think, the ever constant love he held for Penelope conquered all. It burned like an inextinguishable fire, consuming all in its path.

A gasp greeted him with his quiet yet firm knock and for the solitary moment he looked away, on the look out for anyone that might come and attack him, his eyes zapped back to who greeted him.

"Jacinta!" he choked, feeling his luck was suddenly blessing him immensely because of the attempt on his life earlier in the day.

"Julian," she hushed him, pulling him into the house by the front of his shirt before he could say another word, "you shouldn't be here," she told him, her voice low as she pushed him into a dark corner tucked in between the wall and the giant marble staircase.

He sighed, nodding, his eyes plastered to the floor in almost shame for the worry that was also in _her_ voice. It reminded him of Miquel and twice the guilt piled onto him.

"Nobody in this house trusts you or wants you around. Any of the other servants would turn you in in a second," she resisted from snapping her fingers to prove her point, "and you know death awaits you at the hands of Mr. Aldaya."

His eyes flicked back to hers. "Jorge trusts me."

She shook her head, looking away in disbelief.

"He let me in the other night."

She stilled and looked back at him. "I don't know what it is you think you know, but Jorge skipped school and has been brooding in his room all day."

Julian gulped.

"Please let me see her," he begged. Her eyes cried out to him and he could tell all she wanted was what was best for her precious adoptive daughter, Penelope. Finally she reached down into the deep apron pocket of her dress and pulled out a shining key with which she held out to him.

He looked at her in surprise, realizing just then that she had been planning to give him access to Penelope all along and perhaps was just trying to convince herself otherwise or to hear the proper argument. He stared down at the key before she pulled his hand from where it dangled at his side and shut the key in it herself.

"Be quick," she said in her still quiet voice. His eyes looked back at hers, assuring with the meaning that lie inside them that he would.

"The master and mistress of the house are out now, but that does not mean it will be long till they return. They will surely be home before nightfall and the sun is already setting."

He nodded in understanding. "Thank-you, Jacinta," he said, moving around her to sprint up the grand staircase as quietly as he could manage. Jacinta watched him in earnest, her heart breaking for her precious Penelope, and for this boy she knew was only second to her in loving Penelope. She hid herself in the shadows for several lingering moments before discreetly returning to her work, so as to not cause suspicion amongst the other servants.

"My love?" he tested quietly, hoping she wouldn't fly up into a rage at the sight of him. He closed the door behind him, tucking the key into his pocket. The door had creaked when he'd opened it and made a subtle screeching noise when it closed. He thought it'd be enough to alert Penelope sitting on her bed facing the window. But she didn't so much as twitch at his presence. He swallowed hard, realizing Jorge must have told her. _Her reaction must have caused his brooding_, he guessed.

Julian took a few hesitant steps forward and was halted by her voice.

"Stop," she said, without even bothering to incline her head towards him. He could hardly breathe and wondered if what happened in that room at that moment would pain him more than everything else threatening to break them.

"Don't stop speaking," she said in a quiet voice a moment later. Finally her head turned towards him and her whole body took him into view. "I am angry at you," she informed him, "I don't want you near me." She paused, analyzing how every part of him nearly quivered with anxiety. "But not hearing you speak nearly will kill me."

His lips parted and he crossed the room, enfolding her in his arms. Her muffled cries for him to let her go got lost in the fabric of his shirt and she sobbed into his chest and shoulder.

"Why did you not tell me?" she cried. "Of all things I should have known, this one is most important of all," she choked on her cries, trying hard to speak with the boulder of hiccups in her way. His hand smoothed down her hair and he rocked her steadily back and forth to soothe her.

"I could not tell you," he sighed, a tear rolling down his cheek. "All I know is my love for you. Whatever would cause you pain, I could not say." She sniffled into him.

"You should have told me," she insisted, her arms now clutching at his back. He sighed, nodding softly and bringing his lips to the curve just where her jaw and neck met at her ear.

"I am sorry," he told her. "Selfishly I did not want you to push me away," he admitted a moment later, fearing that outcome most of all. Her head pulled back at his words and she looked deeply into his eyes, her hands creating a frame on his face.

"No power in this world or the next could make me push you away, my love," she said, her eyes roving all over his face, adoring every feature. "Not even that of nature itself." She smiled a little and then her eyes closed, a tear slipping out as she moved forward and pressed her lips to his. They sat there in their embrace for awhile, kissing each other softly and whispering beautiful promises into each other's ears that they hoped beyond all hope they'd be able to keep.

When an hour had finally passed, Julian made a few inches of distance between them, warning her of his need to depart from her once more. An uncontrollable tension ached through him for the fact of what he should be feeling and doing, or not doing. He wanted to rip his hair out at the thought of leaving her again but could not make his hands leave the comfort of her skin.

"I must go," he breathed, unable to take his eyes off of her and hardly believing the words had passed through his lips. "I am in too much danger if I stay." He looked pleadingly into her eyes, begging her for an easy departure, one he knew she'd not willingly give.

"I have a secret for you as well, Julian," she said in a whisper. His eyebrows narrowed, confused. There seemed nothing that was not spoken between them, at least not now. For all the thoughts that raced through his mind, he had not been quick enough to guess the daunting words she spoke next.

"I'm pregnant."

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A/N: I hope you liked this. Please review. I was not incredibly inspired or motivated to write this in the beginning, but JP scenes have a way of inspiring me. ;p Review! =D


	6. Torment

A/N: Wow, it's been over two weeks since I last updated this. I apologize, but other fics and real life have gotten in the way. Heh. I hope you enjoy this. Please review. =p

*I own nothing.

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**Ch.5—Torment**

His footsteps slipped like ice down the grand staircase. Too many times to count Julian was sure he had fallen or that it was only a matter of time. With Jacinta's warning in mind he found his escape from the pounding realization that Penelope had left him with. Everything was caving in around him. He would not dare leave his beloved alone with the silent reaction he'd given in response to her confession, but he would be lying if he said he was not relieved when Jacinta's soft knock on Penelope's closed door demanded his escape. He'd bid her a soft, reassuring farewell and flitted off into the dark passageways of the Aldaya mansion.

He should have said something more, he thought. He should have told her that it did not matter, regardless of what people said, should they ever find out, but only the bare minimum of restoration to her spirit slipped out between his dry lips. He was speechless, and for all the other trouble that threatened to break them, this seemed the most treacherous of all. _What kind of life would that child grow up in? What kind of torture would it have to endure simply because of where it came from? _Julian shuddered, trying to ignore the plaguing thoughts as he neared the servants' entrance and way out into the shadowed street.

A firm hand gripping his arm and pulling him aside was the only force that stopped him from his scurried way out. He was breathing heavily and it took him a few moments to adjust, but he scolded himself for even a moment thinking it was someone other than Jorge.

"Don't come back, Julian."

His eyebrows narrowed, taking great offense. "You have no right."

"Don't I?" Jorge scoffed, releasing Julian's arm but still staring his down with what almost looked like hatred. Hurt consumed him. "I'm her _brother_. Or, at least _one_ of them," his brows narrowed, nearly paralleling Julian's expression.

"That isn't my _fault_," Julian ground out. Jorge's expression remained unmoved. "It isn't like I planned to fall in love with my sister," he said when the silence become unbearable. Jorge held up a hand to stop him from speaking, in case he had planned another direct point to be made.

"Everything you've lived inside this house has been a lie, except in regards to Penelope. Though now even that looks more fiction that fact."

Julian grew angry. "I'm not faking being in love with her. Surely even you can tell that!" he whispered harshly.

"Oh, I'm aware of it." He twitched, hating how his temper threatened to explode without so much as a moment's notice. "I'm aware of many other things as well, thanks to you." Julian held his tongue. "When you left the other night, I thought you left for good, and though all I wanted was to save you from this mess, I truly believed that you were doing the right thing. And now you come back and fall into Penelope's arms as if nothing had happened." He shook his head at Julian. "Have you no idea what you've done? The least you can do is leave our sister alone."

"What protection would she have, Jorge? Surely your parents will not be so understanding as either of us or Jacinta. Lord knows what they'll do when she finds out she's pregnant by her own brother," he said with grave seriousness.

Jorge's face went as white as a ghost, and Julian knew on instant that Penelope had told no one else of her frightening secret. From how Jorge had talked about her and what had been happening throughout the week, some part of him just instantly assumed that he had been informed. Now he knew he had ruined everything so completely, and he dreaded what would come next. Sweat beads formed at his brow and along the back of his neck.

"Jorge—" he reached out to him, but the boy turned away, trying to steady himself with a hand bracing his weight on the nearby wall. Julian could see him shaking and his resolve weakening more by the second. He wished there was something he could do, but the desperation in Jorge's features he knew would vanish in the space of time it took for him to look back at his victim.

"_Leave_," Jorge ground out, still not turned back to the helpless boy standing in uncertainty in the middle of the hall. Julian looked about, seeking for a better alternative but could find none. He saw the light beneath Penelope's door tempting him to return to her, and the warning glance of Jacinta at the very bottom of the staircase. He was out in the open and he shouldn't be. It was by pure luck alone that no other servants, nor the heads of the household, were in sight.

"Julian," Jacinta rasped out. His eyes flashed to hers after seeking wherever else he could go with the faded light streaming from his eyes. He felt paralyzed, unable to move, and in some sort of drowsy haze that only encircled dreams, but now strangled the atmosphere in his nightmare. He swore he saw a thick mist settle down inside the house.

"What will you tell her?" he asked Jorge, somehow summoning the little strength left in him to turn to the boy still bracing himself against the wall. Jorge straightened himself and somehow managed to take on a professional, sullen air.

"What she needs to hear," he said simply. Then he was gone, disappearing down the hall and into his room hidden by the faded light of the moon. Julian sunk down on the step where he still lingered, his whole world crashing down on him again. It seemed there was no end to the pits of hell he fell into, dragging his feelings and the pressures of the world and society down with him. He shuddered and it was only by Jacinta's firm grip and rough language that he made it out the servant's entrance and into the shadows across the street from the mansion. It was a miracle Mr. and Mrs. Aldaya had not come home until he'd dragged himself down the rest of the block. In the shadows he was hidden, but far from safe, not from his own heart or the weight of the world. He should have said more to her. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be dragged away and out onto the street. He had never heard a single fowl word from Jacinta's mouth until that night when in her desperation she forced his fear of disobedience to arise…for his own safety.

The light was still lit in Penelope's room. A beacon that always drew him back into the sweet, warm embrace of her arms. He didn't care if they were related, not even as brother and sister. If it went against all decency and morality of society, he would forever be bound to Penelope Aldaya. Not even her embittered brother would keep him away.

He thought he heard her cry into the night. Only by the whispers of the wind did he find himself walking further and further away from the woman he loved, trying painstakingly hard to bury what he had done and what would come from the endangering destruction. Everything wavered by a thread on the precipice of ultimate disaster. No one could tell when the pressure would finally set it all aflame.

* * *

Even with the long hallway, two closed and locked doors, and the heavy spinning wheels in his head, Jorge Aldaya could not block out his sister's muffled screams. Their parents slept two floors below them. If they could hear her, they did not react. Perhaps it was from the simple fact that their sudden hatred for Julian Carax had blinded and gnawed at him since that fateful night earlier in the week. Though their father had found out some days later, the anger appeared to be the same if not greater.

Jorge knew Penelope was crying out for Julian. She had done it every night, despite the attempts to control herself. They were futile. Her great love for him and desire to escape overwhelmed her. Even sobbing into her pillow did not cover much of the sound. Slowly, he drew back the covers snugly tucked into the rigid form of his body and grabbed the tiny key hidden beneath an obscurity of items in the back drawer of a small chest he kept in the back of his walk-in closet. He opened his door as quietly as he could and padded his feet softly down the way to his sister's room.

"Penelope," he whispered against the door. For fear of being too much louder, even with the space between the two floors, he pulled out the key from his robe pocket and snuck in through the pale colored door. Her sobs had ceased, but she knew it was only due to his presence and not the fact that she had finally settled in to rest for the night.

"Julian?" she asked hesitantly. Clearly she had not heard his quiet greeting at the door, he realized, sighing and shaking his head. The magnitude of the whole situation overwhelmed him, but with his anger and frustration directed at Julian, he found it easier to sympathize with his sister and to prevent his own temper from blowing up in front of his father. Then, Penelope would have no one left. Jacinta had no power in such an extreme family matter. She could be dismissed in an instant. Whether Jorge had liked it or not, that realization hit home and stuck with him far after Julian had voiced it and gone away.

"No, Penny, it's me."

Penelope lay very still, shaking on her bed on top of the covers. Slowly though, she turned her body towards her brother's dimly lit form from the freshly lit candle in his hand. She realized then that he had found it just on entering her room. A great pile of matches had lain beside it. It was how she and Julian used to see each other on the dark on nights like this. They would read to each other and then kiss until they were weary. Then Julian would leave, only to reappear the next day, bright as a feather and quite willing to repeat the experience.

"Oh," she said very quietly. Jorge took that as his cue to cross the room over to her and sit on the bed. The room was warm but she still seemed to be shivering. He wanted to wrap his arm around her and tell her everything was going to be all right, but somehow he felt that would only last in comfort until he opened his mouth again and told her what had been pressing him to cross the threshold between them to begin with.

"He's gone?" she asked, knowing the answer. Jorge nodded, not bothering to show his confusion since she'd seen him leave her room earlier. She often became deluded in the midst of her tortured nightmares and endless cries haunting her every night.

"I knew he would be," she sighed shakily. "I told him—" she held her tongue, reminding herself that Jorge didn't know, and that he _couldn't_ know or everything would become so much worse. She was sure of it.

"It's all right, Penny," he said, reaching his hand out to clasp hers. "I know." Her eyebrows narrowed and she pulled away her hand to tuck into the gown in her lap.

"What do you _know_?" she asked, scared of his answer. He could scarcely breathe. His heart was pounding and it felt as if it resounded throughout his entire body. Telling her would be awful, he told himself. But not telling her would be even worse.

"You're pregnant with his baby," she said softly, trying to reach for her hand a beat later. She didn't allow his access though and turned away, looking towards the window she'd always search for Julian through.

"He _told_ you?" she gulped, wanting to be furious at Julian's revelation but finding herself unable to feel anything but loneliness and love in regards to her precious lover. Jorge said nothing, figured it was better that way and maybe that his sister's emotions could then remain under control.

"He's been trying to leave you, Penelope. He's not coming back. It was only I that pleaded with him to keep returning because of how much you cried." His hand shifted to her arm and gripped softly. "You worried me," he said.

All the built up anger and hurt and frustration finally built up to its highest height and exploded in that moment. Penelope could take it no longer. She ripped her body away from Jorge's and stood to her feet, backing away when he tried to reach her.

"You're lying," she said, her eyes angry with undeniable fury. His heart sank for her but she would not believe his manipulations.

"I'm not."

"I don't believe you!" she shrieked, suddenly very unaware of the danger in raising her voice. "Get out!" she cried, dangerously close to collapsing on the floor. She felt nausea and lightheadedness take over her senses and tried her very best to keep a stable stance on the floor that looked now as if it were spinning.

"Penelope, please, you're only—"

The door flung open before he could finish his plea, and both their eyes went wide at the sight of their mother standing in the doorway. She looked more furious than either of them and she held a wide long leather belt clenched in her hand.

"Jorge, what are you doing in here?!" she asked, stalking towards him and jerking his head back with her digging nails snatched into the fine hairs at the back of his head. He cried out in pain but she paid no attention. "I told you to stay out!" she shoved him out the door, but he stilled himself. He knew he could very well escape the interrogation she was no doubt ready to give but the fire in his mother's eyes directed towards his sister frightened him even more than his own fate.

"What are you going to do to her?" he asked cautiously, though panic laced every word he spoke. He felt chilled to the bone with a fierce restlessness as he stood dangling on every breath in the door way.

"Go to your room," his mother said dangerously soft. His eyes went wide as his mother walked slowly towards Penelope, backing up against the far wall. Still his mother had not asked about the key, but he would not grant himself lucky in that venue until he was sure Penelope was safe.

"Momma," Penelope cried out when Mrs. Aldaya finally got within reach of her and smacked her straight across the face and shoved her into the wall on multiple occasions until she had fallen to the floor. Jorge tried to intervene twice but glowering looks and the unforeseen strength of his mother's hold prevented any help he could have given to his poor sister. He almost revealed his sister's pregnancy, but held his tongue.

Finally, Mrs. Aldaya halted when she saw her daughter vomiting on the floor and continuing to do so almost without stopping for the next five minutes. Jorge was horrified, and when finally caught off guard, was sent away to his room by one of the nearing maids. The noise coming from that third floor had become quite evident.

"Momma," Penelope cried, wiping her tears away as soon as she could no longer find it in herself to empty her stomach. She had never been so tortured by her mother, her father neither, even in the midst of his angry fits towards her. Mrs. Aldaya herself had come from an abusive family, but the way in which her daughter had responded was not the way in which she had ever seen. The trembling and groaning she made as she wailed on the floor and sweat trickled down the side of her face gave off warning signals.

"C-Call for a doctor," her mother said, for the first time trembling and very frantic, when she saw Jacinta standing in the hall. She did not curse or fire her for being near Penelope's room when she had been forbidden to draw near. Jacinta said nothing in retort, but noticed as she flew down the stairs how Mr. Aldaya was nowhere in sight.

"Where's my father?" Jorge asked, settling down on his bed, though sure he would not get another wink of sleep that night. The quiet maid was nearly out the door when she turned back towards him and analyzed his features before giving his question so much as a second thought. He shivered at her assessing stare and cringed with fury and fear as his sister's screams of agony echoed throughout the air.

"He went out, Master Jorge."

The door shut behind her and his room became shrouded in darkness.

* * *

The nights were getting colder. He would have hardly believed summer was soon approaching. Every time he came home from the Aldaya's, sullen over the occurrences from just the last few days, he seemed to be frigid with fear and shivering to an unhealthy degree. He should have gone back to Miquel's, but it was farther away and there was risk of running into Mr. Aldaya, because of the mansion's convenient middle marker between his own home and that of Miquel.

Julian was safe nowhere. Miquel's house offered a safe haven, but it was so unbearably hard to get to, tonight there was no strength left in him to even try. Besides that, a new swelling goal beat rapidly inside him. By some bizarre turn of events, he had convinced himself that there had to be someone else, some other man that could claim him as his biological son.

Julian's feet stilled when he murmured whispers and raised voices combining in what was clearly an intense argument in his father's hat shop. He recognized the voices instantly and paled, feeling as though the ground had fallen out from beneath his feet. He felt the sudden need to grab onto something so he wouldn't fall but nothing was in sight but the heavy brick wall lining the front of the shop. He hoped the movement would not be too conspicuous. The dim light from the back room could be seen from the outside and Julian was close. He leaned his head on the jagged bricks and as best he could, listened in on the conversation.

"How could you not know where your own son is?!"

The man grumbled. "Don't you mean your son?"

"We've already discussed that matter," he huffed, as if extremely annoyed. "Besides, what does it matter? He's being sent off into the military soon enough."

The Hatter blinked, not arguing, but his lips pursed in an attempt to hold his temper in check. He may have been willing to go along with the project but the fury in which Ricardo Aldaya had insisted with from the beginning agitated him.

"But he can't be sent off…" Ricardo continued in a low voice, leaning in so as to recapture The Hatter's attention, "if we don't know where he is." He nearly hissed on his final word and it made The Hatter incredibly angry.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Mr. Aldaya, I haven't been very aware of Julian's whereabouts since he started spending all of his time with _you_!"

Ricardo scoffed. "All he wanted was my _daughter_," he spat.

"Penelope?" the Hatter blinked, in shock over the revelation. For a moment he sincerely regretted not diving further into a more personal relationship with who he had been informed was his son, at least for awhile. "What does she have to do this?" he asked.

"My wife…" Ricardo cleared his throat, "…walked in on them."

The Hatter's eyes widened, comprehension dawning.

"That's why I came to you."

He squinted, analyzing the man before him and what he was all about. Not another word was heard though because an old drunken man appeared on the opposite side of the street making quite a racket and the two men looked in his general direction. With is heart pounding a million beats per second, Julian turned away and found the secret passageways up into his mother's bedroom.

The woman was clutching tightly at her sheets, just as Julian always found her in the middle of the night. They only time she showed confidence and complete absence of fear was when she was aware of him or nowhere near her husband.

"Mother?" Julian called out to her softly. Slowly she sat up in her bed, lit a tiny match to the candle by her bedside and registered him in the doorway.

"Julian?" she gasped, prodding him towards her with the rapid movements of her hands. She looked about to cry and he could not tell if it was still from fear of The Hatter or relief that he had come home. He had not been planning on coming home and somehow in the midst of everything with Penelope, he had dismissed how his mother would take the action, even though he had hinted at it the night before.

"You came back," she sniffled into his shirt, gathering him up in her arms as she set the candle back down at her bedside. He nodded into her, allowing his face to be buried in her neck as his arms came around and clutched at the thin fabric on her back. He felt like a little lost boy who had just woken up from a nightmare and needed his mother's care and comfort to get through the night. In a certain sense that was exactly what he needed right then – a mother's care. He had been going only on the both negative and positive remarks of his friends and the strong beating of his heart for Penelope all week. His mother was always so troubled as it was, he didn't want to cause her more pain or pull her into the mess that had become his life in a few short days, but he could not help himself when he tumbled into her arms and fell beside her on the bed.

"Tell me there's someone else," he moaned.

She sighed. "What, love?" she asked softly, in too much pain to just acknowledge exactly what he meant and who about.

"Tell me she's not my sister."

His pleading eyes made her heart break and she saw the little boy inside the tragic hero breaking free. She had only met with Penelope a few times, but she had noticed on all those occasions how very swept up with her Julian she was. She had tried to ignore it and even pleaded with Julian to remain with her and not so close to the Aldayas, because _she_ was his family and they were not. He had been almost angry a few times but eventually came to spend more time with her than he had originally planned, she was sure. It could not be denied though. Those two were fated. _What tragedy._

"Julian…" her words left her. She did not answer his demand. She could not bear to see the look on his face when she repeated the evil truth again.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I know it's all so awful, but this is only mid-way through the fic, so it's kinda meant to be. XD Sorries! But please review if you read. That would be lovely. =)


	7. Treading Dangerous Waters

A/N: Another chapter! Yay! =D lol. I hope if you're reading his, you're reviewing, because my inspiration for SotW fics is waning with the return of Gossip Girl. XD I really do love this fic though, so I shall definitely continue it till its end. *nods* Please review still though if you read. It'd be much appreciated. ;p

* * *

**Ch.6—Treading Dangerous Waters**

"You shouldn't have gone there, Julian."

The boy avoided his gaze, his eyes fixed on the floor hidden behind his sandy-blonde bangs. His lips pressed tightly against each other. He had hardly said a word over the last ten minutes. He had known Miquel was going to lecture him relentlessly, but in the midst of it all he could not find it in him to focus on what his friend was saying. His mind was spinning with thoughts of Penelope.

"Going back to see your mother wasn't exactly smart either. You said Mr. Aldaya was there?" he asked, the concern thickening in his voice. Julian looked up, dazed.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, he was there."

Miquel looked hard over at his friend's face and position on the polished wooden chair in front of his father's desk. Miquel's father wouldn't be home for hours, he was hardly home to begin with. Besides the servants rushing about, it was just Miquel and Julian alone in the large, luxurious house.

Miquel analyzed him, feeling pity creep across his face. He was no longer the parental figure he had forced himself to be when he'd made Julian fess up on finding him sprawled out on his bed not two seconds after he'd walked in to his bedroom after school that day. He had gone out of his mind with grief the night before and the following morning when Julian was nowhere to be found. He wasn't about to go looking for him in the dark of night. He knew Julian had to have been at the Aldayas, but if he had gone there and Julian wasn't there, he would get them both into serious danger. Even if he _had_ gone there he imagined it would not have been good. Nobody was looked well on since the tension with the Aldayas and Julian had developed. He would not put it past Mr. Aldaya to become bitter with any other of his son's – meaning Jorge – friends from school.

"Julian."

The boy's eyes flicked to his. He didn't say a word. Miquel studied him further, his face growing hard again with disappointment.

"What do you want me to say, Miquel? I can't just give up on her."

Miquel leaned forward on his forearms in the chair he was in just a few feet away. "Penelope's pregnant. You told her brother who now wants to kill you."

"He didn't sa—"

Miquel raised his eyebrows, and Julian sighed.

"Okay, I wouldn't put it past him," Julian grumbled as he said the words. He had had such a positive outlook on people before, especially after he'd fallen in love with Penelope, but the attempt on his life by the boy he thought he'd proven to the others was actually good really rattled him. He was shaken to the core. Everything he so trusted and leaned on was falling apart, the most important of those being Penelope. He swore he was still going to run away with her to Paris despite it all. He just wished the road was easier to take. It had seemed such a simple decision when it was formed together. He and Miquel had spent endless hours trying to figure it all out. Julian had been overjoyed when Miquel informed him of the tickets bought under a different name and the fact that Penelope had already come up with a good excuse to get away on what would have been a bright, beautiful Sunday morning. Now, with that day approaching with the dawn of the next morning, every aspect of the perfectly concocted plan seemed hopeless.

He looked up at his brooding friend. Miquel was lost in a world of his own, clearly not knowing what to say next and which emotion to switch to. He wasn't the type to scold and Julian knew he was only concerned.

"I'm still going to Paris, Miquel," he said confidently, though very soft. He watched as Miquel's eyes lifted to his. He tried to convince himself that his best friend's gaze was not watery. "I-I'm taking Penelope with me," he stuttered a little, cursing himself for it.

Miquel blinked, and it was not till a moment later when he seemed to have finally realized his best friend's intent. His eyes didn't widen in shock though as Julian had expected. The forlorn boy just shook his head and pressed his lips to the folded hands he held in front of his face, his elbows propped up on his thighs.

"It's a bad idea, Julian," he said, his eyes glued to the floor. It was no use trying to dissuade Julian from the course he'd been insistent on taking from the very beginning, from the moment he _had_ developed a plan. He deeply regretted it now.

"I don't know how you'll do it," he shakily lifted his eyes back to Julian's. Now it seemed as though they both held back tears for the hopelessness of the situation. "I have no cards left to put on the table."

Julian swallowed hard and maintained his gaze. "I'm so close," he nearly whispered. "I can't just give up now. I c—" his voice lost itself mid-sentence. Miquel pursed his lips together and nodded subtly. Several minutes passed before either of them spoke. Julian cleared his throat to break the silence. Miquel's eyes were already on him.

"We might not be…"

Miquel closed his eyes in anguish and shook his head softly. _Still in denial._ It killed him to see his friend in such pain. The whole situation made him want to pull out his hair and scream at the top of his lungs. It was so unfair.

"No."

Julian's eyes were intensely persistent with their passion.

"Don't…" Miquel choked, "Don't do this to yourself. Don't torture yourself. Just…" he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "…accept it."

He was very silent, pressed his lips tightly together for some time and then spoke. His eyes were still brilliant with fire. "When I talked to my mother last night…"

Miquel swallowed hard, his insides ripping apart at the seams. He was restless. _Would Julian never give up on this relentless hope? _He could not even dare to hope for such things as his pained friend suggested.

"…we might not be," Julian said. Miquel flicked his sad eyes up to look at him. There was so much determination in his eyes, and he knew instantly that had it been earlier on in the week, he would have had cause to believe in the impossible. He didn't move, though he should have. Julian needed his hope squashed, so he could escape without any burden or responsibility and live another life away from such threats as he lived under now.

But he knew he wouldn't. He was bound to Penelope in a way Miquel would never understand. The fact that they were incestuous was a hard chip to bear on each of their shoulders, he was sure, but it would not keep them apart. Nothing would.

"How?" Miquel asked him, despite himself.

It was wrong to open that window, that door, into the light of the impossible, but if Julian needed it until the end, Miquel knew he'd always give it to him, no matter the consequences for the greater good of the life of Julian Carax. Somehow the good of his heart and soul always won out in the end.

* * *

He stood stock still before the one man that could completely destroy him, and Penelope for that matter, but he did not move an inch. Neither of them did. It was just be mere coincidence that Mr. Aldaya happened to be walking into the foyer that afternoon when one of the house maids opened the front door and let him in, despite her insistence on him not being allowed in. Luck was not on his side today. He was chilled to the bone, and keenly aware of the sweat droplets dripping down the side of his face from their origin on his temple. He did not show it though. Pure confidence and courage shown on his face, nothing else. At least, he hoped not.

"Julian," the elder said roughly. Julian could see him clenching his fists at his sides and he tried very hard not to gulp. He was frozen stiff in his spot and did not even make a move to pass the man up. He had come to see Penelope again, to prepare her for their trip in the morning, because there was no way in hell he was going to abandon her now. This was the final hurtle he had to overcome. He just wished he hadn't lost the ability to speak. He silently thanked the God above for restraining Mr. Aldaya's physical aggression as much as his own voice had fallen away.

It occurred to him right then that he hadn't seen Mr. Aldaya since the day before he had been caught with Penelope by Mrs. Aldaya. Somehow he longed for that day again. Not for how the day ended but how it had begun. Friendly conversation amongst the Aldayas and Miquel gave him a jovial spirit. Making love to Penelope had sufficiently assured him of only the best to come. It weakened him every day to not be able to make love to his precious angel, his soul mate. On that fateful day he hadn't known how close he and Penelope really were. It was almost a blessing, though now he was certain his father was neither of the two who had been offered up in conversation.

"Is Penelope here?" he asked, watching Mr. Aldaya's every move carefully, especially those of his eyes. He did not see any point in denying the reason he was there. It was true they hadn't talked or been in each other's company for over a week, but from what he'd hurt, it simply wasn't possible for Mr. Aldaya to be unaware of the recent circumstances.

"She's sick," he said blandly. Julian's eyebrows narrowed ever so slightly. For a moment he went into a panic of worry for her, then he came to the conclusion that the man before him was just bluffing to mess with him. The reality came to somewhat of a middle ground.

"Sick," he responded, just as neutrally. His eyes shifted to the long, marble staircase and he spotted a fleeting Jacinta near the threshold of Penelope's room. He looked back at Mr. Aldaya.

"It'll be brief." He moved to walk towards the stairs, not even taking a second glance for approval from Mr. Aldaya. It was only when a large thick arm came down in front of him that he was forced to stop and look back at Mr. Aldaya, this time with a wicked glare. All polite boundaries were crossed. They both knew why he was there and how each of them felt.

"_Get out_, Julian," he warned. Julian's gaze was unwavering. He both and saw the threat in the threat, but he refused to acknowledge it as a source of any approaching fear. He took one step closer to the man standing before him, the man everybody listened to simply for the fact of fear itself, of what that man could do.

"You're not my father," he said darkly. Slowly the arm dropped back to his side and with one final look, Julian climbed up the stairs to Penelope's room. Mr. Aldaya was speechless, flabbergasted and in disbelief that the few words had granted Julian access to his daughter's room. Whether the statement was true or not, and despite the fact of his unending anger so much as to order death on Julian Carax, he was shaken to the core. Only that boy could stand up to him and _win_.

In a rush, Jacinta's shaking fingers pulled out the key to Penelope's room and opened it for him. Julian shut the door swiftly behind him and regardless of what she thought was decent and proper, Jacinta found herself incredibly close to the room and listening in.

Julian spotted dried blood staining the floor on the far side of the room and panicked.

"Penelope!" he called out for her, his voice soft as velvet. She did not answer and his eyes were blinded to where she was. He felt as though his stomach had increased twice its size and was determined to make it out of his mouth in one piece. The feeling was sickening and nausea completely consumed him until he spotted the small, delicate form of a sickly Penelope Aldaya curled up on her bed.

"Penelope!" he rushed to her side, sweeping away the auburn strands covering her face. "Your father said you were sick. Please tell me you're not. It's just from the pregnancy. Tell me it is," he whispered fervently. The thought of her being sick to add to the trauma was just too much for him to bear.

Penelope blinked once, slowly. She squinted then, as if she couldn't see him. "You spoke to my father?" she asked, confused. It sounded as if something out of a dream. Julian ran a hand through his hair and nodded.

"Yes, I could not avoid it. He was there when I got in."

Her eyes widened. "What happened?" she asked, desperately. It sounded as if she was afraid of what had possibly happened to her precious Julian. He could not conceive such concern, not when he was so focused on his concern for _her_.

"I spoke with him. That is all. Are you all right?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair. He thought he saw a glimpse of a smile on her lips and it made his heart thump wildly. He thought he hadn't seen her smile in ages, even if it had been only a matter of weeks. The last few days seemed as though they were years.

Penelope nodded weakly. "They beat me, Julian."

His eyes widened. "_What?"_ he asked, his voice dangerously low with anger but also with desperate concern and fear for her well fare. She shook her head as if to dissuade him from knowing the truth, but she could not hold back the sobs that tumbled out of her lips in that instance.

"Julian!" she cried out, her arms flying out to wrap around his neck. Her fingers curled sharply into the fabric of his shirt. His heart ached for her. He stood from his knees and held her in his arms as he crawled onto the bed beside her.

"Shh," he said repeatedly very softly, trying to soothe her. His hands rubbed in circles along her back. "Tell me what happened."

Her cries were ceasing as the moments passed. It seemed his existence in her arms had managed to blow away the storm. She only sniffled now and he knew she was close to revealing her secrets.

"Jorge came in long after you had left. He told me horrible, horrible things about you, Julian." She sighed into him. Julian did not doubt her words for a second. He had guessed something of that nature would happen. "Our voices raised and we fought recklessly. Mother came in and beat me. She sent Jorge to his bedroom roughly and not more than five minutes later I was bleeding on the floor from her abuse." She swallowed hard.

Julian tensed, so very afraid of everything. Despite his accomplishment in making it to Penelope's bedroom, he clearly underestimated the power of the Aldayas. Perhaps even Jorge himself was a danger to him. Perhaps they were all capable of murder.

"The doctor came and told my mother I was pregnant." She swallowed hard. I have not seen anyone since. Only Jacinta slides little notes of encouragement beneath my door when she is not being watched. She chuckled lightly in between sobs.

"I'm fine now, Julian," she said, bringing her face back to look deeply into the watery depths of his eyes and assure him. She held his face in the palm of her hands. "I just have to get out of here," she whispered desperately.

"Paris," he said instinctively.

Her eyes widened a little, as if she'd forgotten. And though it could not be a smile that formed on her face, Julian saw the sparkle of hope in her eyes.

"How?" she managed, wondering if he'd heard her. Julian sighed, leaning his head against hers. He clung to her tighter and she curled herself into him.

"Tonight," he said, breathing softly into her hair. "You must come with me tonight."

Jacinta's eyes widened outside the room. She felt her world was completely crashing all around her. It was not just for Penelope and Julian she silently mourned for now. It was the whole of herself as well. Life had not been good to her. The one desire of bearing a daughter had never worked out. Whatever purpose she may have had seemed to have vanquished throughout the years. When she became Jorge and Penelope's governess, she felt whole, especially in regards to Penelope. The thought of losing her threatened to destroy any resolve left in her. _She had to convince her to stay, to not leave. Somehow they would survive._ She needed to believe that.

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A/N: Well, I hope you all loved this! If the 2nd scene is crap it's because GG is coming on again tonight and I've gotten caught up in it. XD Haha. But I think it's pretty good. Please review. ;p


	8. Burning Alive

*Dedicated to **Lucas fan 101**, because your reviews inspired me enough to start this fic up again. How could I have ever forgotten about the magic that is SotW & JP?

….

**Ch.7—Burning Alive**

The sharp knock on the door roused him from the maze of deep thoughts before any maid addressed the unexpected visitor. Mr. Aldaya did not know if he could take yet another person that did not already reside in the house. The last few days threatened to break all he had built up. Everything that had been rising with such satisfaction and success now broke away from its ever permanent façade. _It had all been a lie._

Weary as he was from the current circumstances, he rose to his feet and found his way to the front door. He was about to turn the knob when the sharp knocking came again. He didn't know how he'd let Julian get past him and not beaten him on the spot, but some part of him wanted the boy to carry on his legacy. It was impossible now that he had impregnated his own sister, a fact Mr. Aldaya would blame on him despite his naivety.

He answered the door to find Sophie Carax standing before him, radiating in the shining light of the late afternoon sun. He remembered the day he'd met her and how fascinated he'd been, how he hadn't been able to sleep until he'd had her; or, at least, poorly so. Once she became pregnant however, and refused his insistence on getting rid of it, he'd vanished into his womanizing ways once again. He would not father a son while not legally bound to the woman who bore it. He wished briefly that he had married Sophie. Julian would never have been beaten, and Penelope would have never been born. All would be as it should have been. Except for the fact that had recently been made known to him that Julian had probably lied in entirety as to who he was once he'd caught sight of Penelope. Ricardo Aldaya grew angry. _What a despicable daughter he'd created._

"Your son is upstairs," he said bluntly. "Fetch him, so I will no longer have to endure his presence." He spoke like a man of high authority, one who was not to be questioned. Unlike the days of their love affair when she ceased to do anything other than adore him, Sophie Carax looked him straight in the eyes, hard, determined, and held out a sheet of paper before him. Her eyes did not move from his face.

"_You_ may not be his father."

Ricardo's eyes widened in disbelief. He snatched the paper away from her and scanned the incriminating words. "What does this mean?" he asked, deciding it was more from shock than the inability to comprehend what the document said.

"There was another man I was seeing around the same time I was seeing you," she said neutrally. He hid his shock well, meaning to scold himself lately for almost being burned by the thought of her taking what had been their relationship for granted, at the time. "I knew you could never be faithful to one woman, Ricardo," she said nonchalantly. "We were not exactly a public couple, if you will recall. I had to set sights on another man, an appropriate man, who could support me and our future children, and who would love me and remain faithful."

He looked up at her. "You married the Hatter only months after we parted ways."

"There was another," she said, too calm for his liking.

"Who?" he demanded.

"You must come with me." She easily slid the document from his grasp.

"_Who_?" he demanded again, his fingers clenching into a solid, cracking fist.

"There is a friend of mine that I know. He is well accustomed to the finding of missing persons. He will need the dates however of when we were together. I will need you to tell me when we were together, so that I may piece together if this other man is indeed Julian's father."

"_I_ am his father," he ground out, suddenly possessive over the boy he was enraged with.

She smiled icily. "My friend will determine that."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm not going with you."

"Oh?" She tilted her head to the side. "Would you rather live with the possibility that he may not be yours? Whatever you desire with him is now in question. I know it. I see it in your eyes. I was not all dazed and lovestruck when we were together. I learned you well."

He watched her closely, but could not find any flaw in the point she'd made. There was no lie seething through her teeth. She was taunting him, but she was doing it well. He wondered if she'd picked it up from him and his airy, in control ways. He wondered if Julian was like that at home, or if he would've been had the Hatter not beaten him so. He cleared his throat.

"Will this take long?" he asked, his tone sounding as if it was his idea, even as the question hung in the air. Sophie's smile remained.

"Not if you cooperate."

His emotions switched indecisively from vulnerable intimidation to outrage. He did not know how to treat this woman. He hadn't spoken to her in years. The last time had been when she'd denied an abortion. She'd been so sure that he was the father of her _precious_ unborn baby then. _Was it only because she wished Julian and Penelope well that she had 'discovered' another possible biological father to her passionate teenage boy?_

"You are creating this out of nothing."

She raised her eyebrows. "You think I'm lying."

"The last time we spoke you were certain I was the cause of the child you bore, of Julian who now sits up in my daughter's room only because he dared to speak the words without the evidence that you have shown me here. It is all lies. I am sure of it. There is no sense it except your maternal instincts to protect her son and give him a life I now forbid."

She looked at him calmly. "For a man so sure of whom he has fathered, you are awfully resistant to a mere analyzing of what you deem to be true."

"My word of honor should be enough. I should not have to be tested to satisfy your curiosity and hopelessness."

"There is no test, none in the making that could biologically prove you are his father. I ask only for an outlining of dates, as best as you can remember it, in _truth_."

"I have slept with many women, always casually, and even now. You cannot expect me to remember the dates in which they occurred." He scoffed. "A man of my stature cannot keep straight the worthless objects of pleasure he takes advantage of." He said it bluntly, like it was nothing at all, just truth that he need not be ashamed of. Much to his dismay, she did not look hurt in the least. He did not know why it bothered him so.

"Has every woman you've taken advantage of born you a son when you refused it, demanded it not be rather? Have any even become impregnated under your thrusting manhood?"

He could not believe how blunt she was being. She wasn't cautious in the least, and it was clear she was not going to leave without him. He would not tell her that no other woman had become pregnant by him, at least not by his knowledge. She had indeed made an impression that was imbedded in him deeply. Though he was furious by her refusal of disposing of his illegitimate heir, it was not long until he obsessed over her and the son he would never know. It took less than a year to forget about her, but the notes he had made in that time, to comfort himself into knowing he was in charge, were never burned, never disposed of. His silence gave her that confirmation, even if not to its fullest detailed extent. She stepped to the side, waiting for him to pass. He cleared his throat, straightened his jacket and walked past her, again as if the idea had been his own. He closed the door before following her down the street. He would not be seen in his own vehicle, walking with this woman who threatened to destroy some part of himself he did not know existed. It was a twisted possessive emotion that he could not remember ever feeling, let alone for somehow he now hated. There was no blackmail involved, only the guilt trip she'd assured him of. And he knew it would come. _They must go quietly_, he told himself. _No one must know. Just like before._

…

The shadowed figure of Jorge Aldaya was obvious to him as he lounged against the old Oak tree in the middle of the park. Miquel had asked him there to "talk". Jorge would have had to be a complete idiot to not know what it was about. It was clear by the way he was trying to pull off the nonchalant "sneaky" look against the tree that he knew exactly what the topic of discussion was to be. Miquel took a deep breath and walked determinedly over to him, going for a casual air so as not to seem too suspicious. He and Jorge were friends, even if their relationship wasn't nearly as close and impenetrable as Miquel's was with Julian. _Why should anyone suspect them?_

"Why have you asked me here?" Jorge asked, looking off into the distance. He seemed to be looking into another world, searching for a place where everybody he knew no longer existed. Miquel wondered for the first time how Jorge was taking the whole situation. He had threatened Julian and had lied to Penelope, but it all seemed to be some sort of way to protect his sister and maintain the family name and reputation. _What was he really feeling? Did he even know?_

"You know why," Miquel told him. Jorge lifted his gaze and turned his head to look at him.

"Have you come to threaten me as I did Julian? To warn me against what you might do should I hunt for him and kill him?" He pushed himself off against the bark of the tree. "He would not be hard to find. All I would have to do would be look for Penelope."

Something clenched deeply inside of Miquel. He had told Julian that Jorge would attempt to kill him if he kept sneaking around to see Penelope, but, as Julian had pointed out, Jorge had never made that point directly, not in words at least. When he told Miquel the words that echoed the action he was afraid to acknowledge, he also wanted to escape into another world. Though, in his world he would take Julian and Penelope with him, and they could be happy. He tried to hide the shudder that ran through him at Jorge's threat. He wished he could get him to sympathize with Julian instead of plot against his life.

"Julian is your friend. Surely you have not forgotten."

Jorge nearly scoffed. "He stopped being my friend the minute I found out he got my sister pregnant – and that he was in fact her brother."

Miquel closed his eyes in frustrated annoyance and anguish. He'd been sick of hearing this argument from Jorge. "You know he could not help that. It is not his fault things turned out the way they did."

"His fault?" he asked, amused. "Are you referring to the fact that he took what was most precious from her, or that he did so as her brother?"

Miquel had to focus very hard on maintaining his temper, making sure it did not get out of control. He had never been an overly angry, and certainly never violent person, but he was overprotective of Julian, especially now that this mess had engulfed him, dragging himself along with his best friend.

"They're meant for each other."

Jorge raised his eyebrows. "Because they share the same father? Maybe I'm meant for her too then." Miquel could hold in his temper no longer.

"Have you never been in love Jorge?" He shouted. Lucky for the two of them, no one seemed to be in that sector of the park. Not even the friendly daily policeman patrolled the area in which they were in.

"Have _you_?" he retorted, his voice also rising. It seemed the calm demeanors of both of them were held on a very tight leash, one that burned from the middle and slowly inched towards their necks.

"No," Miquel said, his voice incredibly low and dangerous. The depths of his eyes spoke volumes of what he was feeling. He knew Jorge had betrayed and kind feelings both towards Julian and himself because of what had happened with Penelope, but seeing it in the flesh brought out a new emotion in Miquel he did not know how to describe. _Vengeance_.

Jorge stared head on, and Miquel almost thought he saw a smirk slide onto his daring pale face. His brown eyes were swords of steel, ready to slice even the strongest metals into bits. Miquel noticed how his fists clenched at his sides. Finally, they relaxed and fell limp as no further attempt was made on Miquel's end to accuse him or change his mind.

"Why have you asked me here, Miquel?"

Miquel relaxed under the genuine tone of his voice. He didn't want to fight anymore than he did. He was just filled with so much hatred for Julian now. It exhausted him extremely. Miquel was almost tempted to switch the topic of discussion to something much more simple, such as sports or an afternoon of swimming at the lake where the Aldaya's summer house overlooked. Just like in school days. Perhaps he could even suggest a silly game of tag. His heart told him that was no longer something possible. Not after the betrayal he felt towards Julian, and the betrayal both Miquel and Julian felt towards him. Their bond of brotherhood had been broken.

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick head of hair. "I brought you here so that you may understand how Julian is having to deal with this, how much it torments him to lose you, to have everyone hate him but me and his own mother, who is hardly living from day to day under the circumstances in his house."

He had thought Jorge would scoff, but he did nothing, only listened intently. For the first time during the conversation, Miquel felt he had some sort of control over the situation.

"Penelope and Julian are bound in a way neither I nor you will understand. It is not because they are siblings. They've had this bond since the moment they met, and you know it."

Jorge's eyes focused in on Miquel's, intense and unyielding. Then they fell to the ground, lazy and tired. Still, Miquel knew he was listening.

"It is not Julian's fault this happened. It is your father's." Jorge lifted his gaze to Miquel's, his eyes flaming with anger. Miquel knew in that instant nothing would ever be more important that family to the Aldaya boy. Still, he had to continue. "For the reckless ways he treats women he never intends to have a second thought about. The only possible exception is Julian's mother, and only because she refused to kill Julian before she was born."

For a moment, Miquel thought he was going to be sympathetic. From the beginning of his speech, it looked as if he had softened. But there was a hardness in his eyes now that he knew he was done. Miquel held his breath, desperately praying for the best. Jorge walked towards him until they were a mere few inches apart.

"It would have been better if she had."

He looked hard into his eyes; Miquel felt it as his heart pounded, as his soul was pained. Jorge moved past him then, making sure not to touch him. He was angry. Miquel felt the heat radiating off of him. He could not turn to look at him to see where he would go. He knew he would return home eventually, and he feared for that. But he had promised Julian he would delay the pressure coming down on him and Penelope as much as he could. He had done that. There was no dissuading Jorge from his current mindset. He'd had a few weak moments, but Miquel knew without a shadow of a doubt that the only lessening of his hatred would be the knowledge that Julian was not blood-related. He hoped for Julian's sake that his claim of a different father than Aldaya of the Hatter who beat his mother was true, even if he could not bring himself to believe it.

Slowly, his feet moved over to the tree, nearly causing him to stumble for the involuntary moves he was making. He slumped down against the hard bark and stared down at the ground. The shadows of the leaves appeared more vividly before him. It was nearing sunset.

…

"I wish you could stay forever." The sound of Penelope's silky voice intoxicated him. He wished he could stay forever, wished it could just be the two of them forever, siblings be damned. He could not deny that there was doubt in him over the possibility of yet another candidate for his father, but it was the only thing he could cling to at a time like this. Still, he was determined they would escape. He would defend her to the death if they could not.

"Soon, we will be together always," he murmured against her neck, his face getting lost in her hair. Her fingers dug into the shirt that clung to his back. He lifted his head to kiss her, but resisted the desire crawling up in him to give into passion. The last time it had not ended well for him. He did not want to be too dazed from lovemaking to protect them both, her most especially.

"I want to leave with you, Julian." She lay her head softly on his shoulder. He ran his hand through her hair, his face soft against the side of her own. "There is nothing for me here anymore, and I am terrified to be here alone. Not even Jacinta can save me from my mother's wrath, to say nothing of father. He has not even spoken to me since I learned I was pregnant. The only thing that might keep him from me would be his desire to keep his future grandchild protected."

Julian lifted his face and she lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes glistening with tears. Without warning they began to spill down onto her face. Julian ached for her, brushing aside as many of them as he could. His fingers never seemed speedy or soft enough to prevent them from stopping.

"But the more I think about it, as I have often as of late, he would probably want the child growing inside me destroy for what he might represent. Just as he did not want you." Julian pulled her close as sobs took over her. The overwhelming grief of her own did not even begin to tap into what he was feeling. The sense of fatherlessness swept over him in a way she could not even begin to imagine. Yet, he wondered if it was worse to have parents who did not always appear to care and no longer desired to protect her, just to harm her for what she had done. _She was only a woman in love_, he thought. _And he was only a man in such a state. Could they harm them for acting as such people? They had never thought for a moment that they wouldn't marry. If only they weren't related_, Julian thought. Then, at least there would be a chance for hope.

_They had to escape to Paris. Tonight._

The front door slammed. They both knew it. Besides the maids and Mrs. Aldaya carelessly admiring her image in the mirror of her grand bathroom, only Penelope & Jorge's father was thought to be home. For a few breathtaking seconds, Penelope wished that it was only Jorge finally coming to attack her precious Julian. She knew Julian could fight him off. He was stronger and he always won out verbally, that was how he had escaped most beatings from his own father – the Hatter. But the heavy footsteps coming towards them up the stairs told her it was not a confrontation with Jorge that they would face.

The door to her bedroom opened on a fierce silent breeze. For a few lingering, burning moments, Mr. Aldaya just stood there, first looking to be in shock at the intimate embrace he found Julian and Penelope in, and then an extreme anger Penelope had not yet seen him in. Shivers erupted all over her body. She wanted to breathe Julian's name, to beg him to protect her, or to plead with him to leave, so at least he would be safe. But she lost her voice. The only energy she could find was in her fingers clenching into the fabric of the shirt on his back.

Without a word, Mr. Aldaya took two long strides toward them and ripped Penelope out of Julian's arms. She shrieked, tears streaming down her face again. He hit her. First, once to make just an impact on her porcelain face, and then again to make sure she _felt_ the pain, and just what he could do to her. She could hardly believe just a few nights he had held her in his arms like a little princess. This was a completely different man, one who cared only for reputation and not the sacred protectiveness devoted to family. He continued to slap her and then he threw her up against the wall. The force of his thrust sent her head reeling onto the wall first. More tears poured down at the pounding pain coming from the back of her head. She wondered if she bleeding.

Julian was terrified. It was like a nightmare that he'd dreamt in the nights he'd been without Penelope and wondered if their secret might be revealed. Only this time it was real. It was so horribly real and he didn't know what he could do. He was strong, but the burly strength in Mr. Aldaya was hardly something he could live with, should he try and attempt such a battle. Words would not talk him out of the madness he had now succumbed to either. He was frozen in place, watching the horror before him.

"Julian!"

Her crying words brought him out of frozen daze. He blinked a couple times, feeling the sweat drip down all over his face. Then, he took the lunge and crossed the room, fighting hard against Mr. Aldaya's large arms. He heard a furious growl come out of him, but it was nothing compared to the adrenaline that now soared through him.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted. Finally, he got Penelope away and held her weak form in his arms, far away on the other side of the room, on the other side of the bed. Mr. Aldaya looked at the two of them, furious for how they had escaped his grasp. He charged the two of them. Penelope cried out for help, somewhere, anywhere. She knew there was hired help in the house. Maybe they could call for help. But deep down they knew better. The head of the house had more power than anyone would dare to admit, not only in the house, but throughout all of Barcelona. None of them would intervene, not even more Jacinta. For how then would she protect her when all this was over?

"You slept with your own brother, you bitch," he growled out, heading straight for them once again. Julian blocked his path, keeping Penelope out of harm's way, but it was nothing for the ever stubborn, and now venomous, Mr. Aldaya. He pulled Julian up from where he stood and threw him against the wall. Penelope cried out in anguish. She rushed to Julian's side, thanking the Lord that he was not unconscious. She held his head to her chest and gently rocked him back and forth.

"You disgust me," Mr. Aldaya spat out, clearly intending the statement to Julian. "You could have had everything. I had the world to offer you." His eyes shifted back to Penelope, his eyes burning a hole in the back of her neck as he spoke. "But you threw it all away."

A few large quick strides and he was back to the door in which he'd come. He turned once more to face the wounded couple. "If you return, I will make sure to have you restrained. If you break that order, you will not survive."

The door slammed and Penelope let her tears pour out viciously from her eyes. Julian had now sat up and held her to him. The pain reeling through his body could easily be ignored by the need, the calling within, to make his precious one be eased out of her misery.

"Shh," he soothed her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "We'll leave tonight," he whispered. She shook her head rapidly, in disbelief that leaving could ever be possible, even of her room. She stilled instantly when she heard the sound of a slap outside her room.

"You are being let go, Jacinta," his voice was raised. "You have disgraced our family. Never again will you taint my property with your presence. Be out within the hour."

Penelope gasped.

"If you return, I will make sure you are sent away for good. There is no doubt in your mind that I would." The harsh footsteps continued down the hall until they reached the steps and stomped down the stairs as well. Loud crying was heard from Jacinta, quickly muffled by the sleeve of her shirt. She made her way to the servants' quarters on the floor above to gather her things and leave the Aldaya house.

Now all was lost for good.

…

A/N: *shudders* Review! =D


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